Draco Malfoy & the Sorcerer's Stone
by malfoytheseeker
Summary: Welcome to the life of Draco Malfoy. Join him in his struggle to prove himself in his first year. Draco never met Harry in the robe shop that year. He has a different wand. And he most definitely did not run from Voldemort, among all the other lies. What really happened in Harry Potter's first year? Definitely not what the book says.
1. 1: The Naming

The year was 1980 and the day was June 5th. Narcissa Malfoy was enrolled in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She was stretched across a bed with soft mattresses and warm blankets. Lying next to her was an infant with beautiful platinum blond hair and stormy gray eyes with subtle hints of sky blue.

Lucius Malfoy strode into the room, his head held high, his golden-white hair tamed behind him, his cold, grey eyes darting around the room to find their twins.

Twin eyes located.

Lucius walked over to the bed and glanced at his wife, who was now sleeping peacefully, before turning his head toward the figure next to her.

The door swung open, and in walked a young brunette wearing a royal blue robe that just barely covered her white tennis shoes.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy!" she greeted. "How are you both?"

Narcissa, who had woken up at the sound of the door, replied, "We're doing fine, thank you."

"Excellent. Now, our reports state that your newborn son is very healthy at the weight of three and a half kilograms. For the next few weeks..." The nurse proceeded to inform the parents of their duties.

"With that said, you must choose a name for your son." The nurse looked expectantly at the Malfoys.

Narcissa looked at her husband. "I've always found the name 'Scorpius' interesting."

"That name," Lucius replied, "would better portray a mischievious person with a lack of sophistication and seriousness. Therefore, I would prefer to name him 'Draco.'"

Narcissa pondered this for a moment before deciding, "Draco Malfoy it is. Draco Lucius Malfoy." She glanced at her husband for confirmation, and he nodded.

"What a lovely name!" the nurse agreed. "Alright, then. Mrs. Malfoy, you must stay here for two more days before you can go. Mr. Malfoy, you are at liberty to visit whenever you wish. Just remember to sign in at the front."

As the nurse was leaving, Lucius said, "Thank you for your help, Miss Granger."

The twenty-three year old smiled in return. "The pleasure is all mine."

* * *

November 1st, 1981

"He's gone!"

Narcisa Malfoy looked up from _The Daily Prophet. _"What?" she asked her husband, puzzled.

"The Dark Lord is gone!" he repeated.

Narcissa rose from the breakfast table. "Are you sure? It's not in the news."

"Yet. I suspect it'll cover the front page of the evening edition. It only happened last night."

"He was to kill the Potters' son, wasn't he?"

"The Dark Lord traveled to their house last night, and succeeded in murdering James and Lily Potter. However, he could not kill their son for some odd reason. I believe he disappeared soon after that."

"Yay!" Narcissa and Lucius looked over at their son who had just spoken. However, Draco Lucius Malfoy was oblivious to the situation and was merely enjoying his father's return.

"How did you know before the _Prophet_?" Narcissa asked, turning her attention back to Lucius.

"Severus knew something was wrong and went to Godric's Hollow immediately. He found the Potters dead, yet their son was alive, marked with a scar on his forehead. Severus alerted Dumbledore and I believe that the latter will be taking the son to live somewhere."

"This is all because of that prophecy, isn't it?"

"I can only assume so."

"Now that's he's gone, what do you suppose we should do?"

"Welcome, welcome!" boomed the voice of Lucius Malfoy. "We commence on this fine Thanksgiving Day not only to give thanks, but to mourn the losses of James and Lily Potter. Please join me in a moment of silence for their remembrance."

One minute later, he continued, "Thank you all. We stand together to remember their bravery as they risked their lives for their only son, Harry, who could not attend this funeral due to Albus Dumbledore's wishes. They are indeed, true Gryffindors, with their great courage and loyalty.

"James and Lily, if you can hear me from heaven, I, along with everyone else here, commend you and wish your son all the best."

The funeral attendants broke into applause before going off to mingle.

Stepping off the pedestal, Lucius walked over to his wife and son.

"Phase One of Gain-Back-Trust," he said, "is complete."

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy!"

The family turned to find Narcissa's former nurse, Celeste Granger, walk towards them while carrying a baby girl in her arms.

"Hello, Celeste, how are you doing today?"

"Fine, Lucius, thank you. Have you met my niece, Hermione? She is the daughter of my brother, Lewis, and his wife Jean."

Lucius froze for a bit before inquiring, "Lewis Granger and Jean Lyson...as in the squibs? Forgive me, but I know multiple Lewis Grangers."

"Of course," Celeste said uncomfortably, "er, yes, they are squibs. We are not quite sure if Hermione will be a witch, but one can always hope!"

"Indeed," Narcissa agreed, "and you've met Draco, of course. Draco, say 'hi' to Hermione."

The one and almost-a-half year old held out his hand as Celeste chuckled. "Always a gentleman," she told them as she took Hermione's hand and shook it in Draco's. "Well, I'm off to find Hermione's parents. I'll see you soon!"

Lucius turned to Narcissa and said, "Now, if we'd named him Scorpius, he'd blow raspberries at the Grangers' daughter."

"Oh, hush, Lucius," Narcissa replied, "you don't know that."

Lucius smirked. "Do I?"


	2. 2: The Late Letter

August 1st, 1991

"Draco Lucius Malfoy!"

To say that Lucius Malfoy was furious with his eleven-year-old son would be an understatement; he was bloody outraged.

Draco gulped as he made his way into the living room, finding his parents frowning down on him.

"Y-yes, Father?" he stammered.

"Have you received a letter from an owl yet?"

Draco, shocked at the strange question, replied, "No, Father."

"Evidence!" Lucius roared. "He's a sqiub!"

"Lucius, calm down," Narcissa told him. "I shall take care of this."

"You are nothing but a squib," she continued, turning to Draco. "You have never shown any sign of magic, and you are a _disgrace_ to this family. A disgrace! Even the Grangers' daughter is a witch, and you, heir to one of the most powerful pureblood families in the wizarding world, _are a squib_!"

"Therefore," Lucius said, "you must be punished. _Crucio!_"_  
_

Draco crumbled to the floor, crying and screaming in pain.

* * *

"Minerva, I feel as if we have skipped over a student in the process of sending the letters."

Minerva McGonagall turned to the headmaster of Hogwarts. "And what makes you believe so, Albus? Hagrid has already taken care of Potter! You needn't be worried."

"No, no, no. I have this feeling that a student other than Harry Potter is missing his or her letter. I am sure of it. Check the list of students who have replied. The deadline was yesterday, wasn't it?"

"Alright," the woman sighed.

_Hannah Abbott_

_Susan Bones_

_Terry Boot_

_Mandy Brocklehurst_

_Lavender Brown_

_Millicent Bulstrode_

_Justin Finch-Fletchy_

_Seamus Finnigan_

_Hermione Granger_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Morag McDougal_

_Theodore Nott..._

"Albus!"

"Yes, Minerva?"

"Draco Malfoy is a wizard, correct?"

"Minerva, do not tell me you have forgotten to send the Malfoy heir his letter?"

"Oh, dear. I shall get on it right away."

* * *

"That should teach you!" Lucius growled after ceasing to torture his son.

_Tap, tap, tap_.

Draco's parents snapped their heads towards the window. Draco, in too much pain to even do that, was thankful that he was already facing the window.

"It's an owl!" Narcissa exclaimed.

"Really, Mother," Draco drawled, "I thought it was a giraffe."

"You will apologize immediately!" Lucius ordered.

"Sorry," Draco mumbled.

"Properly!"

"My dear mother, I would greatly appreciate it if you would be so kind as to accept my sincere apology."

"Better, and she'll think about your forgive-."

"Lucius," Narcissa interrupted. "It has the Hogwarts seal."

The two parents looked at each other for a moment before the mother tore the envelope. She took out the first piece of paper and read aloud:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy,_

_I would like to offer my apologies for this delay, but I had merely skipped over your son's name due to my poor eyesight. I hope you are all well. I have included Draco's acceptance letter and supply list. I apologize once more._

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

After a moment of silence, Draco spoke, "Why don't _you_ apologize this time?"

"Quiet, boy!" Lucius said. He rumaged through the envelope and pulled out the letter, giving it to Draco. "Read it. Out loud."

"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than August 2nd.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress"

"There's got to be a mistake," Lucius said.

"Why, dear Father," Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "can't you accept the idea that your son is a wizard?"

"Then why haven't you shown any signs of having magical qualities? Ever?"

Turning to Narcissa, Lucius said, "We must see Albus immediately."

* * *

_CRASH!_

Dumbledore looked up from his desk to see Draco Malfoy fall through the fireplace.

"Bloody Floo," the younger said. "I'm never doing that again."

Seconds later, Narcissa Malfoy stepped gracefully through the fire, followed by her husband.

"Draco," said the latter, "do get up off the floor. You are sharing physical similarities with a house-elf."

His son obeyed him and brushed the dirt off his clothes once he was up.

"Lucius," Dumbledore started, "to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Albus, how can Draco be a wizard?" he asked. "He has never shown any signs of being magical. Ever."

Dumbledore frowned as he rose from his desk and walked over to the Malfoy heir. How odd indeed.

"I fear I do not know, Lucius. Is it all right with you if I bring him with me to Diagon Alley to purchase his wand and supplies?"

"Yes, I suppose it'll be fine," Lucius unwillingly agreed.

* * *

"I'm getting a wand?"

"Well, all wizards and witches need a wand. How else are they supposed to do magic?"

"Wandless magic?"

Dumbledore stopped in the middle of Diagon Alley and asked, "How did you know that?"

"Magic without a wand? I don't know, lucky guess."

Dumbledore continued on his way to Ollivander's. As he stepped through the door, Ollivander greeted him warmly.

"Albus, good to see you again!"

"Hello, Garrick. Unfortunately, I have no time for chit-chat. Young Mister Malfoy here requires a wand."

Ollivander nervously glanced at the boy whose father had killed many of his relatives.

"R-right away!" he exclaimed and went about the shelves.

"Here," he said, handing Draco a short box. Draco opened a box to find a really short wand.

"Eight inches, hawthorn, dragon heartstring, unbendable," Ollivander stated proudly.

Without even trying anything, Draco immediately handed it back.

"No," he promptly said.

Ollivander frowned and asked, "Why not?"

"It's not meant for me," Draco simply stated.

Raising an eyebrow, Ollivander replaced the box with another containing a "nine inch, ebony, dragon heartstring, somewhat supple beauty".

Draco complained once more. "Why are you giving me the short ones? I am not lacking in character!"

Ollivander looked surprised. "You know how the wand lengths are determined?"

"Well, it's obvious you're just prejudiced against me because I'm a Malfoy. Thus, you are providing me with short wands. I happen to be tall for my age."

Dumbledore was amused by this remark and couldn't help but wonder what instigated Draco to say it.

Before Ollivander could respond, a box started glowing from one of the shelves in the very back. The box was isolated, sitting on the shelf all by itself.

"No!" Ollivander whispered. "It cannot be!" He immediately grabbed the box and handed it to Draco.

Once Draco took out the wand, wind started blowing. Papers swirled around in an orderly manner before settling in a neat pile on the front desk. Boxes of wands floated back to their original locations as the door swung open, then shut. Open, then shut.

All of a sudden, the commotion stopped.

"Found my wand," Draco said nervously.

"It cannot be," Ollivander repeated to himself.

"What seems to be the matter?" Dumbledore asked.

"This wand is thirteen inches and reasonably supple."

"So?" Draco said.

"That is the normal part. What is so extraordinary is that this wand not only contains the tail feather of the phoenix that belongs to Albus, but also has a combination wood: acacia, elder, and wood."

Dumbledore's eyes grew wide, but Draco noticed that the old man wasn't really surprised. "I've never heard of such a wand! Why would you even make it?"

"It is my duty to replicate every unusual wand wood ever in existence. The wand of Merlin was made of the very wood in Draco's hands."


	3. 3: The Peculiar Wand

"But I had presumed that Merlin's wand was of English Oak?" Dumbledore asked.

"It is only a myth. Merlin did not want it to be known that his wand was so unusual. When on his deathbed, he asked his twin sister to take his wand to a wandmaker to be analyzed and recorded for the future."

Draco looked at his wand. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "I have a wand like Merlin's."

"Not entirely like Merlin's," Ollivander told him. "His had dragon heatstring core, and it was not as long as yours. I should also mention this: no one can know what your wand is."

"Why not?"

"It's dangerous enough to have a wand with more than one wood. It is extremely powerful. Besides, no one will believe that you and Merlin shared the same wood."

"Garrick," Dumbledore said, "may I speak with you in private?"

"Of course!" He hurried off after Dumbledore towards the back of the room.

Draco mocked, "Oh, of course!"

He did his best to listen in:

"Albus, this wand is very powerful. He absolutely _cannot_ know why this wand chose him."

"Garrick, it is _his_ wand, not yours. Draco can handle it. Perhaps it is better for him to know why he may not spread this information. I will have to persuade him not to tell his parents, course."

"I suppose."

"I appreciate your understanding. Now where are your most accurate wand books?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I would like to see your most accurate books on wand woods, cores, flexibilities, and lengths."

* * *

"Professor, where are we going?" Draco Malfoy asked his future headmaster as they walked down Diagon Alley.

"To the Leaky Cauldron," came the reply.

"I've heard of it, but I've never been there."

"I would not expect you to have."

Draco frowned. "And why not?"

"Your parents do not seem the type to have ever been there."

"You're saying they're too rich to go there?"

Dumbledore merely chuckled and said, "Indeed."

When they entered, Draco was greeted by some sort of warmth he'd never experienced before. Wizards and witches were crowded in the pub, drinking, and talking.

Draco followed Dumbledore to the bar.

"Hello, Tom," Dumbledore greeted.

"Albus! Good to see you." The bartender directed his eyes towards Draco. "Who's this? Wait. Don't tell me. Platinum blond hair, finest robes of the century, signature smirk plastered on his face. Why, you must be a Malfoy!"

"Excellent guess," Dumbledore said. "This is Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. Draco, this is Tom, proud bartender and owner of The Leaky Cauldron."

Tom held out his hand and Draco, being the gentleman he was raised to be, shook it.

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Draco said.

"And you!" agreed the other. "What can I get you today, Albus?"

"I'll have a butterbeer, if you don't mind. Draco, would you like anything?"

Draco had gotten an opportunity to drink butterbeer only once and it had been a reward for doing something well.

"Alright, I'll have that as well."

"Two butterbeers, coming right up," Tom said.

When he returned, Draco was getting out some of his pocket money to pay for the beverage, but was stopped by Dumbledore.

Dumbledore said, "Courtesy of an old man with no one to spend the money on." Draco noticed a sad look in the old man's eyes.

He accepted the glasses and led Draco to a booth in the corner of the pub.

As Draco sat down, he watched Dumbledore take a miniature notebook from his pocket, set it on the table, and tap it with his wand. The book suddenly grew back to its normal sizes.

Draco looked up, amazed.

"Someday," Dumbledore told him, "you'll be able to do that."

"So what is this and why are we reading it?" Draco asked.

"This is Ollivander's personal notebook. You need to learn how your wand represents you."

Dumbledore flipped to a page and shoved the book in front of Draco. "Read," he said.

_"Many wandmakers simply match the wand length to the size of the witch or wizard who will use it, but this is a crude measure..._do I have to keep reading this?"

"Perhaps, in your head."

After a moment, Draco said, "So he does indeed base wand length upon character. Shorter wands are for those who lack something in character."

"And have you read about the flexibility?"

"It's the degree of adaptability and-" he paused to glance at the book, "-and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair."

"So what does that tell you about yourself, Draco?"

"I have a great deal of character and I adapt to things based on reason."

"Excellent. Turn the page. Find your core and read it all aloud."

_"This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike._

_"Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to their potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is own of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalize, and their allegiance is usually hard won."_

"So?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Cool. Next page?"

Dumbledore nodded.

Draco read:

_"ACACIA_

_A very unusual wand wood, which I have found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and I only keep a small stock for those witches and wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as 'bangs-and-smells' magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament._

_ELDER_

_The rarest wand wood of all, and reputed to be deeply unlucky, the elder wand is trickier to master than any other. It contains powerful magic, but scorns to remain with any owner who is not the superior of his or her company; it takes a remarkable wizard to keep the elder wand for any length of time. The old superstition, 'wand of elder, never prosper,' has its basis in this fear of the wand, but in fact, the superstition is baseless, and those foolish wandmakers who refuse to work with elder do so more because they doubt they will be able to sell their products than from fear of working with this wood. The truth is that only a highly unusual person will find their perfect match in elder, and on the rare occasion when such a pairing occurs, I take it as certain that the witch or wizard in question is marked out for a special destiny. An additional fact that I have unearthed during my long years of study is that the owners of elder wands almost always feel a powerful affinity with those chosen by rowan._

_YEW_

_Yew wands are among the rarer kinds, and their ideal matches are likewise unusual, and occasionally notorious. The wand of yew is reputed to endow its possessor with the power of life and death, which might, of course, be said of all wands; and yet yew retains a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in the spheres of dueling and all curses. However, it is untrue to say (as those unlearned in wandlore often do) that those who use yew wands are more likely to be attracted to the Dark Arts than another. The witch or wizard best suited to a yew wand might equally prove a fierce protector of others. Wands hewn from these most long-lived trees have been found in the possession of heroes quite as often as of villains. Where wizards have been buried with wands of yew, the wand generally sprouts into a tree guarding over the dead owner's grave. What is certain, in my experience, is that the yew wand never chooses a mediocre or timid owner."_

"Wow," Draco said. "I'm brilliant."

"It is one thing to be proud of yourself, yet another to be arrogant," Dumbledore said. "Do not inflate your head any more than you already have."

"My head isn't that inflated. My parents aren't exactly satisfied with my actions."

For the first time in history, Albus Dumbledore was rendered speechless. He couldn't tell the boy that his parents actually were satisfied with him-that would be giving him false hope.

"Come on, Draco," he finally spoke. "It is time we got the rest of your supplies."


	4. 4: Requirements

September 1st, 1991

"Draco, you must push your luggage cart harder! You are a Malfoy, meaning you _cannot_ be weak!"

Draco replied, "Yes, Father," and pushed his cart harder in order to accelerate its speed. When his father turned back around, Draco stuck his tongue out at him.

_"Mimble Wimble!"_ Lucius Malfoy said, pointing his wand at Draco.

"Son, you may not know this, but it is wise to not mock your father when his back is turned. Believe me when I say I can tell what you are doing."

Draco trudged along, following his parents, until they got to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Once Draco had emerged from the brick wall, Lucius undid the curse.

"When you board the train," he instructed, "find Vincent and Gregory."

"But Father," Draco started, "those two have got more fat than brains."

"They are also guaranteed to be in Slytherin."

"Why can't I sit with Blaise?"

Lucius's face darkened. "You have not seen him in a year, and there is a perfectly good reason for that. Blaise Zabini's father and I have a bet on The Dark Lord."_  
_

"What bet?"

_Slap_.

"Malfoys do not ask so many questions!" Lucius snapped. "Malfoys respect silence, and the knowledge they are intended to know approach them at the correct-and only the correct-time."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, still clutching his now-red cheek.

The train blew its whistle.

"Go now," Narcissa said, "you sorry excuse for a wizard."

"Narcissa, is that any way to bid your son goodbye?" Lucius drawled.

"You're right. Draco, you are a Malfoy. Do you know what that means?"

Draco sighed and replied, "Malfoys always get top marks in their classes and are the star players of their Quidditch team. They are expected to be Slytherins, and while they are to be the most respected in Slytherin House, they must be proper purebloods and behave themselves. Got it, Mother."

"Do not forget it," Narcissa replied before she and Lucius left.

Draco boarded the train and went to search for Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, as his father had instructed. However, he was met by a pleasant surprise on his way there.

"Blaise!"

"Draco! It's been a year," the dark-haired boy said.

"I know. I reckon it's got something to do with a bet."

"A bet?"

"Earlier today, Father let it slip that he and your father were betting on something related to The Dark Lord."

Blaise frowned. "So that's why Father told me to stay away from you. No offense."

"None taken. My father had asked me to do the same to you. I'm supposed to find the dimwits Crabbe and Goyle and spend the year bossing them around."

Blaise chuckled. "Good luck, mate. I've got Theodore and Adrian to deal with, but they're our friends."

"I wish the four of us would share a room at Hogwarts."

"Perhaps we will. Then Crabbe and Goyle can't spy on you and tell your father you're not with them."

"Speaking of which, I'd better get going."

"Alright, see you, mate."

"Right." Draco continued through the train until he found Crabbe and Goyle snoring in a compartment. He sat down about two feet away from Goyle and stared at his hands until the train stopped.

"Malfoy!" exclaimed Crabbe when he woke up.

"No, I'm Potter," Draco said sarcastically.

"Hey Goyle," Crabbe nudge him, "wake up! It's Harry Potter!"

"Shut up, you dimwit!" Draco roared. "I was being sarcastic. I'm really Malfoy."

Crabbe frowned and started, "What's sarcas-"

Draco groaned and stormed out of the compartment. He sat in a boat with Blaise, Theodore Nott, and Adrian Pucey.

"Adrian, I thought you were a third year," Draco said.

"I don't know why," Adrian answered, "but my father found it funny to trick people into thinking I was two years older than I actually am."

"I don't find that particularly funny," Theo said.

"It's not," Draco said.

Draco stood with Crabbe and Goyle (much to his dismay) during Professor McGonagall's instructions.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she stated. "Now, in a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup."

Suddenly, a frog croaked, and a chubby first year rushed forward to pick it up, yelling, "Trevor!" He looked up at McGonagall and said, "Sorry."

The irritated professor waved it off and continued, "The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily."

Draco looked around at his fellow classmates and recognized one with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

"It's true then," he said, "what they were saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

There was a collective gasp and murmurs ran among the students.

Draco marched up to Harry Potter and said, "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

A redhead, standing next to Potter, snickered.

Draco's jaw clenched. He turned to the mocker. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask you yours. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."

"It's not nice to make assumptions," a voice called. Draco spun around to see a girl with bushy hair and large front teeth.

"And you are?" Draco asked.

"Hermione Granger. If I am unfortunate enough to share some classes with you-"

"Granger?" Draco said, frowning.

"Yes. Have you heard of me?"

"I met you when we were younger. Your aunt, Celeste, was my mother's nurse." Draco then gasped in realization. "Your parents are squibs!"

There were more gasps from the students, similar to Draco's.

"And what is the problem with that?" Granger snapped. "What is the problem with being a squib or a, what did you say, a Weasley? Whatever that means."

"The-" Draco started but was cut off by Potter.

"You shouldn't say anything if you're stumped."

"If you wouldn't keep interrupting me, you wouldn't think I was stumped!" Draco groaned in frustration.

The Great Hall doors swung open, and McGonagall stepped out, saying, "We're ready for you now. Follow me."

Draco snapped out of his current mindset and kept repeating, "Malfoy, Slytherin. Malfoy, Slytherin. Malfoy, Slytherin." in his head. If he was placed anywhere else, his father would personally come to Hogwarts to kill him.

He put on a smirk when his name was called, and walked up to the stool. As soon as the Sorting Hat was placed on his head, it called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down. On his way there, he heard the Weasel say, "There's not a witch or wizard who went bad and wasn't in Slytherin."

Theo and Adrian were sorted into Slytherin, and finally, Blaise was, too.

"I hate having my last name start with a 'Z' because I'm always last," Blaise complained.

"It's no big deal, I suppose," Draco said. "Let's just eat. I haven't had a proper meal all day."

"I think they should serve lunch on the trains, don't you?" Theo said.

"Definitely."

Back at the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter was enjoying the feast. A roar of laughter erupted from the Slytherin table, and Harry spun around to look at them.

"I bet they're making fun of me right now," Ronald Weasley said.

"Why would they do that?" Hermione Granger asked.

"The Malfoys are the richest and most popular pureblood family in the wizarding world, but they were also in league with You-Know-Who. That's why the other Slytherins will follow whatever Draco Malfoy does. Plus, they're Slytherins. They hate everyone."

"But what's that got to do with you?"

"I'm a pureblood, too, but I'm not rich like the rest of 'em."

At the Slytherin table, Draco was sharing a story with his friends. "My father went to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game in his fifth year. As captain of his own team, he was responsible for keeping track of the other teams. So he's watching the game from where the teachers were when the snitch appears right next to him. Being a seeker, he's just itching to reach out and grab it. He's so oblivious to the rest of the world that he doesn't notice the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff seekers zooming toward him from either direction at full speed. When he looks up, he sees only twelve players in the Quidditch Pitch. He doesn't duck in time so the two seekers completely crash into him."

A roar of laughter erupted from those who were listening.

Draco continued, "My father was in the hospital for weeks, and he recovered only to serve a detention for being in the staff section."

Blaise said, "That was absolutely brilliant of your father." He wasn't being serious, of course, and he was grinning.

"Well, it's time to go now," Adrian informed them.

The four of them followed their prefects to the dungeons.

"Congratulations! I'm Prefect Gemma Farley, and I'm delighted to welcome you to SLYTHERIN HOUSE. Our emblem is the serpent, the wisest of creatures; our house colours are emerald green and silver, and our common room lies behind a concealed entrance down in the dungeons. As you'll see, its windows look out into the depths of the Hogwarts lake. We often see the giant squid swooshing by – and sometimes more interesting creatures. We like to feel that our hangout has the aura of a mysterious, underwater shipwreck.

"Now, there are a few things you should know about Slytherin – and a few you should forget.

"Firstly, let's dispel a few myths. You might have heard rumours about Slytherin house – that we're all into the Dark Arts, and will only talk to you if your great-grandfather was a famous wizard, and rubbish like that. Well, you don't want to believe everything you hear from competing houses. I'm not denying that we've produced our share of Dark wizards, but so have the other three houses – they just don't like admitting it. And yes, we have traditionally tended to take students who come from long lines of witches and wizards, but nowadays you'll find plenty of people in Slytherin house who have at least one Muggle parent.

"Here's a little-known fact that the other three houses don't bring up much: Merlin was a Slytherin. Yes, Merlin himself, the most famous wizard in history! He learned all he knew in this very house! Do you want to follow in the footsteps of Merlin? Or would you rather sit at the old desk of that illustrious ex-Hufflepuff, Eglantine Puffett, inventor of the Self-Soaping Dishcloth?"

Many no's were heard from the first years.

"I didn't think so," Farley continued.

"But that's enough about what we're not. Let's talk about what we are, which is the coolest and edgiest house in this school. We play to win, because we care about the honour and traditions of Slytherin.

"We also get respect from our fellow students. Yes, some of that respect might be tinged with fear, because of our Dark reputation, but you know what? It can be fun, having a reputation for walking on the wild side. Chuck out a few hints that you've got access to a whole library of curses, and see whether anyone feels like nicking your inkpot.

"But we're not bad people. We're like our emblem, the snake: sleek, powerful, and frequently misunderstood.

"For instance, we Slytherins look after our own – which is more than you can say for Ravenclaw. Apart from being the biggest bunch of swots you ever met, Ravenclaws are famous for clambering over each other to get good marks, whereas we Slytherins are brothers. The corridors of Hogwarts can throw up surprises for the unwary, and you'll be glad you've got the Serpents on your side as you move around the school. As far as we're concerned, once you've become a snake, you're one of ours – one of the elite.

"Because you know what Salazar Slytherin looked for in his chosen students? The seeds of greatness. You've been chosen by this house because you've got the potential to be great, in the true sense of the word. All right, you might see a couple of people hanging around the common room whom you might not think are destined for anything special. Well, keep that to yourself. If the Sorting Hat put them in here, there's something great about them, and don't you forget it."

Draco thought about why Crabbe and Goyle were sorted into Slytherin, but then again, he couldn't imagine them being in any of the other houses.

"And talking of people who aren't destined for greatness, I haven't mentioned the Gryffindors. Now, a lot of people say that Slytherins and Gryffindors represent two sides of the same coin. Personally, I think Gryffindors are nothing more than wannabe Slytherins. Mind you, some people say that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor prized the same kinds of students, so perhaps we are more similar than we like to think. But that doesn't mean that we cozy up with Gryffindors. They like beating us only slightly less than we like beating them.

"A few more things you might need to know: our house ghost is the Bloody Baron. If you get on the right side of him he'll sometimes agree to frighten people for you. Just don't ask him how he got bloodstained; he doesn't like it.

"The password to the common room changes every fortnight. Keep an eye on the noticeboard. Never bring anyone from another house into our common room or tell them our password. No outsider has entered it for more than seven centuries.

"Well, I think that's all for now. I'm sure you'll like our dormitories. We sleep in ancient four-posters with green silk hangings, and bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. Medieval tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins cover the walls, and silver lanterns hang from the ceilings. You'll sleep well; it's very soothing, listening to the lake water lapping against the windows at night. _Tabula Rosa_."

When the prefect spoke the password, the stone wall slowly dropped through the ground. It rose back up once everyone had entered.

Draco went straight up to the dorms, followed by his friends.

"Which room's ours?" Blaise asked.

"This one," Draco said, opening a door with their four names on it.

"I thought it was five to a dorm."

"Suppose not."

Draco immediately entered the bathroom for a nice, cold shower and changed into his silky green pajamas.

"Going to bed so soon, mate?" Theo asked.

"I'm tired, and it's already eleven," Draco answered. "Besides, we've got classes tomorrow, and being a Malfoy won't get me out of detention."


	5. 5: Classes

Professor McGonagall had just turned herself into a cat, and Draco was finding it very amusing that there was almost no facial difference.

"Whew! We made it!" Weasel said as he and Potter walked in. "Can you imagine the look on ol' McGonagall's face if we were late?"

Suddenly, the cat jumped off the desk it was sitting on and morphed back into the Transfigurations professor.

"That was bloody brilliant!" Weasel commented.

"Oh, thank you for that assessment, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall replied. "Perhaps it would be more useful if I transfigured Mr. Potter and yourself into a pocket watch? That way one of you might be on time."

"We got lost," Potter said, voicing what Draco knew was the first excuse to come to his mind.

"Then, perhaps a map? I trust you don't need one to find your seats."

Draco smirked. For an old lady from Gryffindor, she was pretty witty.

Potions, however, was far more interesting. Professor Snape entered the classroom, slamming the door behind him.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," he said when he'd arrived at the front of the room. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition..."

Snape was looking at Draco, and Draco felt that this class was going to be his favorite. Not only did he know he would be skilled in that class, but his father and his Potions professor were friends.

"...I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses," the professor continued. "I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death. Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not PAY ATTENTION."

The class turned around to see Potter scribbling furiously on his parchment.

"Mr. Potter... our new celebrity," Snape drawled. Draco smirked. He knew Potter wouldn't have as much fun as Draco would in this class.

"Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape asked Potter who shook his head. Granger's hand shot up immediately.

"You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

"I-I don't know, sir," Potter said uncertainly. Granger waved her hand around like someone trying to get attention in a crowd (which Draco knew she was).

"And, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Granger raised her hand higher, if that was possible.

"I don't know, sir."

"Pity. Clearly fame isn't everything."

"Clearly Hermione knows," Potter said. "It seems a pity not to ask her."

Some of the Gryffindors Draco recognized as Finnigan and Thomas sniggered.

"Silence!" Snape commanded. He glared at Potter before walking to his seat and sitting down in front of him.

"Put your hand down, you silly girl," he said to Granger.

"For your information Potter," he began, "asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draft of the Living Dead. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant which also goes by the name of aconite...well, why aren't you _all_ copying this down?"

Everyone immediately did as they were told, and when Snape went up to the podium, he informed them that Gyrffindor would lose points thanks to Potter.

* * *

The mail arrived during study hall. Draco received a letter from his father:

_Draco,_

_I trust you have heard about the Gringotts break-in. It was I, along with Crabbe and Goyle, who had been instructed to do so. Unfortunately, the vault had already been emptied out. The item which we seek is currently located somewhere in Hogwarts, and Professor Quirrell is attempting to retrieve it. I ask that you do not hinder him in any which way._

_Your father_

Draco crumpled up the paper and shoved it inside him robe pocket. He picked up the paper and read, "Believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown, Gringotts goblins, while acknowledging the breach, insist nothing was taken. The vault in question, number seven one three, had been emptied earlier that very same day."

_Oh, brilliant,_ Draco thought. _My father's a dark wizard_.

That explained the mark he had seen on his father's left forearm when he was eight. It was the first time he'd experienced the Cruciatus Curse. Apparently, he'd asked "too many questions".

Draco shook his head to get rid of the memory.

* * *

The flying class was split into two lines that faced each other. A broom was in front of each student.

"Good afternoon, class," Madam Hooch said.

"Good afternoon, Madam Hooch," the class replied, half-heartedly, and Draco didn't even bother.

When Hooch had reached the end of the lines, she said, "Welcome to your first flying lesson. Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone step up to the left side of their broomstick. Come on now, hurry up. Stick your right hand over the broom and say 'Up!'"

Draco obeyed, and the broom immediately flew into his hand. He looked around to see that only Potter had been able to get ahold of his broom on his first time. After a while, Weasel's broom lifted only to smack him in the face with its handle.

"Ha!" Draco laughed loudly.

"Now," Madam Hooch said, "once you've got hold of your broom, I want you to mount it, and grip it tight. You don't want to be sliding off the end. When I blow my whistle, I want each of you to kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, hover for a moment, then lean forward slightly, and touch back down. On my whistle. One, two, three." She blew the whistle, but before Draco could kick off, Longbottom's broom rose all by itself.

"Mr. Longbottom!" Madam Hooch called as Longbottom's broom started spinning out of control.

Then he went flying around all over the place. He flew right into a spear and his robe got hooked. It started to rip, and he fell. He was hooked onto something else, but then he fell to the ground.

"Oh, dear, it's a broken wrist," Madam Hooch said after she'd examined the situation. "Poor boy. Come on now, up you get. Everyone is to keep their feet firmly on the ground while I take Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. Understand? If I see a single broom in the air, the one riding it will find themselves out of Hogwarts before they can say 'Quidditch.'"

Draco picked up the Remembrall once she had left and thought he'd intimidate Potter for being a smartarse when he met Draco.

"Did you see his face?" Draco asked the Slytherins. "Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he would've remembered to fall on his fat arse."

The Slytherins laughed.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Potter said.

"No, I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find. How about on the roof?" Draco mounted his broom and rode off. "What's the matter, Potter? Bit beyond your reach?"

He saw the Granger girl say something to him before Potter flew after him.

"Give it here, Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!" he threatened.

"Is that so?" Draco mocked. Potter flew past him, but Draco spun around on his broom...something Severus Snape saw.

"What would you do if I dropped this?" Draco asked Potter.

"Malfoy-"

Draco dropped it, gave it a few seconds, then sped down towards it. He grabbed it a few inches from the ground and pulled up, flying back to where Potter was. The Slytherins cheered.

"Blimey, that was brilliant!" Ron said to Hermione when Draco was back in front of Potter. The Gryffindors glared at him and he mumbled a "Sorry" to them.

Back up in the sky, Draco said to Potter, "Your turn." He threw the ball as far in front of him as he could and rode back down to be praised by the Slytherins. It felt good to be acknowledged for something he had done well. Unfortunately, Potter came back with the Remembrall. The Gryffindors cheered as Draco rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Potter," a voice called. It was Professor McGonagall. Draco smirked; perfect Potter was in trouble.

"Mr. Malfoy," said another voice from behind the catwoman. Draco's smirk faded as he saw his Potions professor.

Draco followed Professor Snape to the Charms classroom.

"Professor Flitwick," Snape said, "I need to borrow Flint for a moment." Draco waited as a creepy-looking bloke with large teeth came out.

"Draco, this is Marcus Flint, captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Flint, replace your pathetic excuse for a Seeker with Draco immediately."

With that, Snape dragged Draco back to his flying lesson.

* * *

Later on that day. Draco heard from the ghosts that Potter had become Gryffindor seeker. All the Slytherins (except for the former Seeker, Terence Higgs) were congratulating Draco. He was off to the dungeons when he saw Potter, Weasel, and Granger heading towards the third floor.

_Idiots,_ Draco thought, as he went after them. He followed them into the corridor when the torch lit up. He quickly hid behind a wall.

"It's Filch's cat!" he heard Granger said.

"Run! Quick, let's hide through that door!" The three first years followed Potter's orders and headed somewhere beyond Draco's vision.

"It's locked!" Potter exclaimed.

"That's it, we're done for!" Weasel said.

"Oh! Move over! Alohomora!" Granger said and Draco heard the click of a lock. "Get in!"

Moments later, Filch arrived only to find nothing. Draco came out of his hiding place when he heard a scream and the three idiots ran out of the door. He saw what looked like a dog's nose and teeth. He heard it bark, too. He caught a glimpse of a trapdoor by the dog's feet before the door successfully closed and locked.

Draco quickly ran back to his hiding spot, and he only came out after the others were well on their way to bed.

* * *

On Halloween, Flint tried to teach Draco how to play Quidditch (even though he already knew how), but when he let the bludger out, it hit him in the shoulder. Draco had to catch the bludger, lock it up, and take Flint to the Hospital Wing before heading to Charms.

Things took quite a turn during dinner when Quirrell ran through the Great Hall, screaming about a troll in the dungeons.

"Thought you ought to know," the DADA professor said before fainting. There was an uproar as everyone tried to rush out of the hall.

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore commanded. "Everyone will please not panic! Now, prefects, will lead their houses back to the dormitories. Teachers will follow me to the dungeons."

Draco saw Snape disappear through a door rather than follow Dumbledore's instructions. He looked around to find that Quirrell was missing as well. Abandoning the Headmaster's wishes, Draco rushed off after Snape. He found himself back in the corridor from before.

He hid in his corner again when he saw Snape and Quirrell.

"I know what you're up to, and it won't work!" Snape was saying. His leg was exposed and bleeding.

"It would have if you hadn't followed me!" Quirrell snapped back, not stuttering like Draco had heard him.

"The stone can wait until later on this year, but it is too early now. Besides, you still haven't a clue how to get past my obstacle."

"Then tell me."

"Not now, we are required to go back without causing suspicion."

Draco quickly sped out of the corridor and ran straight toward the dungeons when he saw the troll heading somewhere else. He followed it and realized he was right outside the girls' bathroom.

Then the troll saw him. Draco stared directly at it until the troll swung its bat at him. Draco couldn't hop out of the way, but he grabbed the bat and climbed onto it once it was over the troll's head. Then Draco jumped onto troll's head itself. When the troll raised his eyes to see him, it brought down its bat onto its own head, and Draco jumped off just in time.

"Ow!" Draco exclaimed when he hit the floor, and in a moment's time, the troll hit the floor as well. Draco got up and dusted his robes.

Just then, Granger rushed out towards Draco, followed by Potter and Weasley.

"What do you think you're doing?" Granger demanded.

"Saving your lives so be grateful!" Draco snapped. From the other end of the hall appeared Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell.

"Oh, my goodness!" McGonagall gasped. "Ex-explain yourselves, all of you!"

"Well-"

"It's my fault, Professor," Granger interrupted Draco. The three boys frowned. She continued, "I went looking for the troll. I've read about them, and I thought I could handle it. But I was wrong. If Harry and Ron hadn't come and found me... I'd probably be dead. Malfoy, on the other hand, was just lurking around."

"What-" Draco started, but was interrupted once more.

"Be that as it may, it was an extremely foolish thing to do," McGonagall said. "I would have expected more rational behavior on your part and I am very disappointed in you Miss Granger. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgment. As for you two gentlemen, well, I just hope you realize how fortunate you are. Not many first year students could take on a fully-grown mountain troll, and live to tell the tale! Five points will be awarded to each of you for sheer dumb luck. Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you follow the headmaster's instuctions next time. Ten points from Slytherin."

With that, she left the corridor, followed by the three liars.

The troll grunted, and Quirrell shrieked, running out of the corridor, too.

"Sir," Draco said to Snape, "_I'm_ the one who-"

"I saw it all, Draco," Snape said. "I am quite impressed and will inform the Headmaster of the truth. Potter and Weasely's ten points will be taken away from Gryffindor, and fifty points from Gryffindor for dishonesty and arrogance. Fifteen points to Slytherin for your cleverness and for having no say in the story."

Draco smiled and said, "Thank you, sir."

"Now head to you room before anyone else says something."

Draco nodded and took off for the Slytherin common room.


	6. 6: Saving the Enemy

The following Saturday was Draco's first Quidditch match.

"Have an English muffin, Draco," Blaise suggested.

"I'd rather not have anything in my stomach to throw up," Draco coldly replied.

"Alright, mate, just trying to help."

Draco stared at his English muffin for a while before reaching for a green apple.

"I thought you weren't hungry?" Blaise asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Would you rather I starve to death?"

Suddenly, an owl flew in carrying a wrapped package.

"What do you reckon that is?" Theo asked.

"I don't know," Draco said sarcastically. "I mean, it's not as if it's the exact shape of a broom."

"You're right, Draco. What could it be, then?"

For a moment, Draco thought Theo was joking, but he looked dead serious.

"Looks like it's Potter's," Adrian observed.

"Look at Weasel all eager to open it," Draco said. "Bet he's never seen one in his life."

Draco watched the three liars tear apart the wrapping to reveal the Nimbus 2000.

"Correction," Draco said, "Weasel's never seen a broom worth more than his entire house."

His friends laughed and Blaise asked, "Don't you have that broom, too?"

"Mine wasn't paid for by the school," Draco simply replied. "You'd think Potter's parents would leave him some money. I bet they're happier now that they're dead. Potter looks happy, too."

Blaise was puzzled by his friend's comment, but shrugged it off once he'd recalled what had happened.

"Still a bit furious at the troll ordeal?" he asked Draco.

"Not just a bit. Those filthy liars think they've gotten away with it. Revenge comes today. Pitiful Potter won't be looking so good on a broom next to me."

* * *

"Scared, Malfoy?" Marcus Flint said, mockingly, as the Slytherin Quidditch team waited to fly onto the pitch.

"Of what, winning?" Draco shot back.

"If you don't fail to disappoint me today, Malfoy, I'll have Higgs back on the team."

"You should be more concerned about your own skills...or lack of them, I should say."

Before Flint could reply, the door opened, and the team flew out onto the pitch, circling around, showing off on their brooms.

"Hello!" came the obnoxious voice of Lee Jordan from Gryffindor. "Welcome to Hogwarts' first Quidditch game of the season! Today's game: Slytherin vs. Gryffindor!"

The spectators went wild.

"The players take their positions, as Madam Hooch steps out onto the field to begin the game!"

"Now, I want a nice clean game..." Madam Hooch told the players. The looking directly at Flint, she added, "...from all of you."

Lee Jordan commentated on the following events, "The Bludgers are up, followed by the Golden Snitch. Remember, the Snitch is worth a hundred and fifty points. The Seeker who catches the Snitch ends the game."

"Yeah, Draco!" shouted some of the Slytherins and others joined in on a chant, "Malfoy! Malfoy! Malfoy!"

Gryffindor, thinking they were better, countered the Slytherins with a "Potter! Potter! Potter!"

Lee Jordan said, "The Quaffle is released, and the game begins!"

Draco soared above everyone else as he watched some chaser from Gryffindor score the first goal. He saw Potter clap and almost get knocked off his broom by a Bludger so Draco laughed at him...and a Bludger came close to knocking him off as well.

Not too long after, Wood blocked Flint's goal and Gryffindor scored yet another goal.

Draco sighed. He couldn't wait until he was captain; he'd pick players who weren't completely clueless.

He ignored the game until Slytherin started scoring goals. He smirked at the frustrated expression on Potter's face. When the two houses were tied, Draco saw Potter snap his head towards something...the golden snitch.

Potter rushed after it and Draco followed. Suddenly, Potter's broom started spinning out of control. The snitch was gone already. Draco knew neither the broom nor its rider was at fault for this. His eyes wandered towards the staff section and he saw Quirrell muttering something, as well as Snape. It seemed that bloody Granger had noticed that, too.

"Filthy practically-a-Mudblood," Draco muttered as he flew over the staff section. He removed his wand from his robe and muttered, "Petrificus Totalus" while pointing it at Quirrell. Soon enough, Potter was back on his broom, flying towards a smug Draco.

"What was that all about?" he asked Draco.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You just Petrified a teacher!"

"He was cursing you."

"No he wasn't! If anyone, it was probably Snape."

"Look, I don't appreciate you acting like you're the most perfect person in the world. I still haven't forgotten the troll incident, and Professor Snape happens to be a friend of my father's. So if I hear any more false accusations and lies from you, I'll dig up your dead parents and scream at them in front of you for not teaching you any better!"

"Malfoy-"

Draco's eyes suddenly widened as he zoomed past Potter towards the golden snitch. Potter immediately followed him and the two raced neck in neck towards the ground. Draco pulled up just in time, or he would have crashed. Of course Potter wouldn't; he had enough time to straighten up.

Potter stood up on his broom and reached for the snitch as Draco found the perfect angle from which to swoop in and do his job. When Potter stepped forward, Draco jumped off his broom and grabbed the snitch...just as Potter's mouth came in contact with Draco's glove. Both seekers fell to the ground.

Madam Hooch immediately rushed over to them.

"Slytherin has the snitch!" she called.

The Slytherins burst into cheer as the Gryffindors booed.

"Slytherin wins, 170 to 20!" Lee Jordan shouted, a bit angry.

Off the pitch, Draco's friends and teammates congratulated him.

"Nice catch, mate!" Blaise said.

"Yeah," the others agreed.

Marcus Flint came up to Draco and said, "Looks like I won't be replacing you after all." He left just as soon as he'd come.

"That thing with Potter's broom, that was weird!" Adrian said.

"What'd you curse Quirrell for?" Theo asked.

"You saw that?" Draco asked, stunned.

"Blimey, mate, the whole school did! Dunno why you saved Potter, though."

"You know those filthy Gryffindors, Theo, they'd've said that Slytherin only won because of Potter's broom malfunction."

"True," Blaise admitted, "but that's that. Let's go celebrate with our star player!"

As Draco walked to the dungeons, Potter, followed by his pals, came up to him.

"Malfoy," Potter said, looking at him expectantly.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Thanks."

Draco merely nodded and headed off towards the dungeons. He could feel Potter's stare on his back so he stopped and replied, "Don't mention it."

Footsteps went in the other direction and Draco went to his dorm.

* * *

"I can't believe you thanked Malfoy!" Ron repeated for the hundredth time in their room.

"He saved my life," Harry told him.

"Hermione was on her way to stop Snape, too!"

"It wasn't Snape, apparently."

Ron stopped pacing and said, "What?"

"Malfoy told me that Quirrell was the one cursing me. That's why he Petrified him and not Snape."

"Why?"

"I don't know, Ron. I think I'll be heading down to lunch now. Seeking isn't that easy, you know."


	7. 7: The Howler

Draco strongly disliked Christmas. Every year, his mother would invite the richest and snobbiest pureblood families to the Annual Malfoy Eve's Ball, and Draco had definitely had enough with the nonsense. Nobody was there for Christmas; they were just there for the party.

THE BLOODY PARTY!

And the following morning, Draco would always be the one who had to clean up. Last year, he'd gone to his room to go to bed only to find his precious Nimbus 1999 torn to shreds by the troublemaking children that had been thrown in the room because "the grown-ups were busy".

Draco knew that his room was only a daycare because come morning, half the adults wouldn't even remember their own names.

This year, Draco knew he had the option of staying at Hogwarts...but not according to his father.

YESTERDAY

"Draco, it looks like you've got an owl," said Blaise.

Draco turned to his friend. He reached out his hand and said, "Give me the letter."

Blaise untied the note from the owl's leg, but he apparently wasn't doing it fast enough because it started to dig for lice in Blaise's head.

"Ow! Stop it!" he said, desperately to the bird. "I can't get this bloody letter if you don't stop poking me!"

Draco sighed. He got up from his bed and went over to the window/

"Must be urgent," he said as he took care of the untying, "otherwise I'd've received it at the next meal."

"Well, what's it say?"

Draco unfolded the note and read:

_Draco,_

_I have heard about you first Quidditch game. Congratulations on a job well done. I had thought that you would not be good enough for the team in the first place, but Severus says you have performed exceedingly well. Continue this streak and perhaps you can prove that you are not a squib._

_On a different note, my main purpose of writing is because the winter holidays approach. As you know, your mother and I are throwing the Ball once more and you are expected to attend. Ride the Hogwarts train home tomorrow, and we will pick you up from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Your mother will take you shopping for new dress robes._

_Your Christmas presents this year will include: a list of resolutions for the following year, your tasks for your second term at Hogwarts, a new set of robes for your second term at Hogwarts, and a flask of pumpkin juice._

_Let me know when you receive this,_

_Your father_

"I'll still never understand why your father tells you your presents ahead of time," Blaise said.

"Neither do I. Ugh. I've been waiting for this. I absolutely _hate_ the ball. I mean, come one, Blaise, you know what it's like. Why can't my parents buy a tree and decorate it, like normal parents? As much as I dislike that idea, it's better than the ball."

"Mate, it's not that bad."

"My broom from last year got destroyed!"

"You'd have gotten a new one anyway."

"That's because I'm a Malfoy; I'm expected to have the best and the newest. I honestly don't see the problem with a large family dinner on Christmas Eve. Then on Christmas Day, I could wake up to see a real present. Not some pieces of paper or some juice I would've had for breakfast any other day."

"Take pride, mate. Your parents are teaching you to be polite. That's why you're not spoiled like me."

"Pride in being a Malfoy? I have plenty of pride! I just think it'd be nice to have a family dinner."

"You just want turkey."

"I just want turkey...now, that's only one reason."

"Let's just go to bed."

"Alright, let me reply to my father first."

Draco got out his quill and wrote on the back of his father's letter the following:

_Hello, father. Nice to see you're proud of me for once. I'm afraid I will not be attending your ball because it's absolutely ridiculous. If people ask where I am, just say that I'm doing extra credit assignments for Headmaster Dumbledore. Anything is better than that foolish party of yours._

_Oh, and have you noticed that I have not written this in the form of a proper letter?_

Draco refolded the note and reattached it to the owl.

"You've been here the whole time, haven't you?" Draco rhetorically asked the bird, not expecting a reply. "Here. Take this to my dear father."

Draco had done something he knew he would regret, but he shoved his thoughts and worries away and settled into his bed.

PRESENT DAY

And that was why Draco Malfoy was attending his parents' ball. Because earlier this morning, at breakfast, he'd received a letter from his father.

A letter in a red envelope.

"Draco, you've got a Howler!" Theo pointed out.

"Brilliant," Draco said. "I should have seen this coming."

"Well," Adrian said, "you'd better open it unless you want to die."

Draco rolled his eyes; he wasn't going to die, but he opened it anyway...and braced himself.

_DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY,_

_HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR FATHER IN SUCH AN IMPOLITE MANNER? HOW DARE YOU HAVE ENOUGH NERVE TO OPPOSE MY DECISIONS? I FIND IT VERY RUDE THAT YOU DID NOT REPLY IN A PROPER LETTER, BUT EVEN MORE SO BECAUSE YOU FOUND IT AMUSING TO POINT IT OUT! WHETHER OR NOT YOU ENJOY THE CHRISTMAS BALL, YOU WILL BE ATTENDING! DO YOU HEAR ME? I WILL GO TO HOGWARTS MYSELF AND DRAG YOU OUT IF I HAVE TO! AS A PUNISHMENT, I WILL NOT BE GIVING YOU YOUR PRESENTS THIS YEAR. YOU WILL ALSO BE REQUIRED TO FIGURE OUT YOUR RESOLUTIONS AND REQUIREMENTS AS I WILL NO LONGER BE PROVIDING THEM._

_NO MALFOY HAS EVER STOOPED SO LOW BEFORE AND I AM ASHAMED THAT YOU WOULD EVER DO SUCH A THING!_

_DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, YOU ARE NO SON OF MINE! MENTALLY, OF COURSE, AS I CANNOT DO ANYTHING ABOUT THE BIOLOGICAL PART._

At this last sentence, the whole Great Hall burst out laughing as Draco repeatedly smacked himself in the forehead. He immediately rushed out of the hall.

When he rose from the table, all eyes were on him and everyone was silent. He headed for the doors.

"Where are you going?" Blaise asked.

"I leave today and I need to pack." With that, he left the hall.

Blaise watched Potter, Weasley, and Granger approach him.

"What was that all about?" Potter asked.

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Potter," Blaise spat. He hated them almost as much as Draco did, and for the same reasons.

"We just want to know what could cause such a stir in a pureblood's life," Granger answered.

"Well, let's put it this way. Draco's parents throw a Christmas Eve's Ball every year and he absolutely hates them. He needs to be there, though, for the sake of his parents' reputation. Got it, nosies?"

"Well, he didn't have to go," Weasley insisted. "He doesn't need his presents."

Potter sniggered at that.

"How clever of you," Blaise answered sarcastically, "to know so much about his life just by guessing. For your information, Weasel, Draco is informed of his presents ahead of time every year, and do you know what he was supposed to get this year? Two pieces of parchment: one with his resolutions, and another with his requirements; in addition to a set of robes and a flask of pumpkin juice."

Granger and Weasley gawked at Blaise while Potter just said, "It's better than what I've gotten."

"This is his own family, for Merlin's sake! You Muggle caretakers are just like purebloods in the wizarding world. Muggles hate wizards just as much as purebloods hate Muggles, or some of 'em, anyway."

"Well, he's always gotten what he's wanted, hasn't he?"

"Purebloods are expected to raise their children to not grow up spoiled. They must be polite, have manners, be sophisticated, and calm."

"You know what, then, Zabini?" Potter said, taking in the information. "You're not bad for a Slytherin."

Blaise sighed. "Slytherins aren't what you think they are."

"Then what are they?"

So Blaise told them who he was, who the Slytherins were. And this was how the three Gryffindors befriended a Slytherin, not to mention, Draco Malfoy's best mate.

After Granger had left for the Hogwarts Express, Blaise assumed Draco had as well.

"So do you two want to tell me who this Flamel guy is?" Blaise asked.


	8. 8: Flamel, Quirrell, & a Lovely Xmas Day

"So what you're saying," Blaise contemplated, scrunching up his forehead, "is that there's a three-headed dog with a name guarding a trapdoor, Snape's got this brilliant idea to steal something from the school he works at, and the thing he's so interested in has got to do with this Flamel guy you've only heard of."

"Correct," Harry said.

"Well, Draco's got a different idea of that, you see."

Harry and Ron looked at each other in confusion before the former asked, "Meaning?"

"When Quirrell announced that there was a troll in the dungeons, Draco saw Snape going somewhere else. He also saw that Quirrell was missing." Blaise told them about what had happened that day, emphasizing the part where Draco had defeated the troll.

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry said, "Hermione's the one who said we'd saved her."

"Whatever. It's probably for Draco's own good anyway. Can't have his father finding out that he accidentally saved you three."

Harry and Ron quirked both their left eyebrows at Blaise, but then moved on.

* * *

After a long train ride home, Draco was in no mood to deal with his parents. But he _had_ written that letter. Therefore, he would have to suffer the consequences. He took a big breath before entering the drawing room.

"You summoned me?" Draco asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Draco, do you realize we are your parents?" Narcissa asked.

Draco nodded stiffly.

"THEN DO YOU REALIZE HOW DISRESPECTFUL THAT LETTER OF YOURS WAS?!" Lucius roared.

"Yes, Father. I would like to apologize. I must not've been thinking properly." As far as Draco knew, he had definitely been thinking properly.

"You've got that right, haven't you?" Lucius took a few deep breaths before continuing calmly, "Tonight happens to be the ball. Therefore, you cannot be punished now. This does not mean, however, that you will not be punished at all. Be careful, Draco."

Draco nodded and made to leave the room when the cold voice of his father's filled the room again.

"I take it you are doing well in all of your classes?"

"Yes, Father."

"Beating that Granger girl?"

"Exams aren't until the end of the year."

"And if I hear that you haven't done better than that Mudblood, then you will not find yourself in a good situation."

"I thought her parents were squibs."

"She's as good a Mudblood as any of them."

* * *

The ball was absolutely pathetic. Draco hadn't eaten for hours due to Crabbe and Goyle Jr.'s constant hogging of the food...ALL OF IT.

He groaned and went about the manor, looking for something to do that wouldn't involve cheek-squeezing, gushing, and all the other things for which he'd rather die than have done to him.

His aimless stroll took him to his father's office where he heard hushed voices.

"Quirinus is close, but apparently Severus keeps getting in his way."

Draco knew this voice, but he couldn't quite put a finger on the name. The next voice, however, he _did_ recognize, having had lived with its owner for his entire life before Hogwarts.

"Severus is merely stopping Quirinus from doing something completely ridiculous and ruining the Dark Lord's chances of returning."

The Dark Lord? Draco's remembered that this was what You-Know-Who, or Voldemort, was called by his parents and their friends.

The reply came, "Lucius, do you really believe that Severus is trying to help?"

"Severus happens to be one of my closest companions, and you would do well to remember that before insulting him."

"Alright, Lucius, just wondering. Is anyone suspicious of him?"

"Not that I know of. Quirinus may need to be looked after, but he must know what he's doing in order for the Dark Lord to trust him."

"I suppose you're right."

"Now, we'd better get back before we are accused of anything."

Draco ran for it; he raced down the hallway-as silently as he could-and bounded up the steps to his room. He sat down on his bed and took a deep breath to relieve the stress from his body.

His father was indeed a dark wizard, a follower of You-Know-Who, at that. Draco knew that when the time came, the responsibilities of the Dark Lord's right-hand man would be passed down to Draco himself.

And for that, he needed to start preparing as soon as possible.

* * *

Draco trudged down the stairs to find that not a single room had been trashed. His parents must have taken care of it, for once.

He entered the drawing room to see if he'd gotten any presents at all, and wasn't surprised to find his parents waiting for him.

"Draco," Narcissa began, "your marks seem to be exceedingly good so far, according to Professor Snape. Last night, your behavior was quite excellent, although I don't remember seeing you bade the guests farewell."

"I was tired so I had gone to bed," Draco answered.

"Very well. You will find that we will indeed be gifting you with the presents you were intended to receive. Here are your requirements and resolutions."

She handed Draco two slips of parchment.

"Your robes for the following term."

Draco accepted the robes, and the pumpkin juice that followed, after it was announced.

Draco didn't know why, but his parents seemed to think that he really loved pumpkin juice, which is why they would never bring any home. The pumpkin juice he'd received this morning was probably left over from the previous night, so it wasn't truly for him. The lengths purebloods would go to make sure their children remained prim and proper.

"Thank you, Mother. And thanks you, Father." With a quick nod, as he had done since he could walk and talk, he left for his room. He replace his old requirements sheets with the new ones and hung up his robes in his wardrobe. He quickly downed the glass of pumpkin juice (he wasn't really a fan) and made his way back down to the drawing room.

"Draco, I have to ask you something," Lucius said the minute his son walked in the room.

"Yes, Father?"

"What do you know of my conversation with Vincent Crabbe's father last night during the ball?"

Draco was stunned; he didn't think he'd be seen.

"What do you mean, Father?" Draco asked, pretending not to know what was going on.

"Don't lie to me, boy! I saw you running away last night. Crucio!"

Draco fell to the floor in hopes that he would somehow figure out how to "train" himself. All he knew was that only he could know about this, and that this would take a great deal of time.

* * *

"Ah! Severus, I- I, I- I-I..."

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell."

"W-what do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean... We'll have another little chat soon... when you've had time to decide where your loyalties lie."

Snape heard breathing and he reached out, but couldn't quite catch anyone.

Harry was under his new Invisibility Cloak, and he'd almost been caught by Filch. Speak of the devil...

"Oh, Professors. I found this in the Restricted Section." Filch held up a lantern. "It's still hot. That means there's a student out of bed."

Everything happened in a flash, and suddenly, Harry found himself in a room with nothing but a mirror. He stepped closer to the mirror to get a better look. There was an inscription at the top that read: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

"What could that mean?" Harry wondered aloud. His eyes widened as he saw two figures beside his own in the mirror. He spun around, only to find no one else there.

To the mirror, he said, "Mum? Dad?"

Blaise was having a dreamless night of sleep until he felt something bite him hard. His eyes flew open to find a snowy white owl with a note:

_Blaise,_

_We're in the Potions classroom in the dungeon. Come meet us as soon as you get this._

_Harry and Ron_

Blaise got up somewhat lazily, somewhat hurriedly, both at once, and ran to the Potions classroom.

"There you are!" Harry exclaimed. The owl had been following Blaise and flew straight to Harry the minute she saw him.

"Blimey, mate," Blaise said, "that owl of yours is a murderer!"

"What'd she do?"

"Bit me harder than a non-venomous snake a was 'lucky' to meet on a family trip one year."

"Come on, Blaise, quit over exaggerating. I've got something to show you."

* * *

"Come on, come on! It's my parents!"

Ron and Blaise looked into the mirror with Harry, but nothing other than the three of them were there. This was voiced by Ron.

"Look in properly," Harry told him. "Go on, stand there. There! You see them, don't you? That's-"

"That's me!" Ron interrupted. "Only, I'm Head Boy. And I'm holding the Quidditch Cup. A-and, bloody hell! I'm Quidditch captain, too! I look good! Harry, do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? Both my parents are dead."

Ron turned to Blaise. "Well, you have a go, then."

Blaise looked into the mirror and found himself having a snack with Draco at the age of 20, both men wearing t-shirts. He told his friends this.

"That's it?"

"Yeah." But to Blaise it meant much more; he wanted Draco to be alive by that time, as well as himself. The t-shirts revealed their bare left arms, and Blaise knew he wanted more than anything to not end up a Death Eater like his and Draco's father. He also wanted the two of them to be officially allowed to be friends again.

"Actually, Ron, what do you want more than anything else?" Blaise suddenly asked.

"Um, well I've always wanted to be Head Boy and Quidditch Captain...and all that."

"And Harry, you want more than anything to see your parents, right?"

The Boy Who Lived nodded.

"What if this mirror shows us what we want the most?"

Harry and Ron gaped at each other.

"What, surprised I'm smart? Of course I'm not Boy Wonder or Percy Weasely's little brother."

"Hey!" the other two simultaneously said.

"Boy Wonder?" Harry wondered.

"It's Draco's nickname for you...one of them, anyway."

"Speaking of Malfoy, if you saw the two of you having snacks at the age of 20, this can't really be a mirror of desire."

Blaise didn't want to tell him the truth about the scene so he just said, "Well, I guess you're right. We'd better go to bed."

* * *

Draco and Granger had returned from holidays, but Blaise hadn't seen Draco yet. He and the three Gryffindors had gone to the library to figure out who Flamel was. Apparently he was the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone.

Unfortunately, just as Granger had said, "That's what's under the trap door-the Sorcerer's Stone!" Draco came storming into the library.

"Blaise Zabini, what do you think you're doing in a library with a bunch of Gryffindors?"

"Calm down, Draco, what happened?"

"I'll tell you, but not in front of those filthy liars!"

Blaise sent his new friends an apologetic look before heading off to the Slytherin common room with Draco.

"What was that about?" Blaise hissed.

"Why are you hanging around _them_?" Draco demanded.

"They think they know about Quirrell and Snape."

"They think they know, but I actually _do_ know." He told Blaise about everything, from the accusations to the ball to the conversation to the "event" on Christmas Day.

"On Christmas Day? Why?" Blaise was outraged.

"It's my father. What did you expect? A nice warm cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows for overhearing his conversation? I think not."

"You need help from the Mirror of Erised."

"The what?"

* * *

Blaise brought Draco in front of the mirror and said, "Dumbledore caught Harry and said that this was going to be moved tonight. So make the most of it."

Draco squinted his eyes and found his reflection staring back at him, standing in between his parents...but he looked happy. HIs mother didn't look so stern-she seemed rather relaxed-and his father's eyes were loving.

"So?" Blaise prompted.

Draco told him what he'd just seen.

"Funny," Blaise said, "that's basically what Harry saw."

"What do you call him that for?"

"It's his name, isn't it?"

"You've never called him just 'Harry' before." Draco glared at a nervous Blaise.

"What happened over break, Blaise?"

So Blaise told him the truth. He told his friend about all that had happened, and to say Draco was angry would be an understatement.

"YOU WHAT?"

Blaise cowered in fear. Even without the height and the long hair, Draco looked enough like his father when he was mad to frighten Blaise.

"You had no right telling Famous Potter, Blood-traitor Weasel, and Mudblood Granger, or ANYONE ELSE about my life! And how much do you think you know, anyway? Father was right; I should've stayed away from you."

"Draco-"

"Save it, Zabini. True friends don't spill each other's secrets like babies spill milk."

Draco slammed the door and left.

"I presumed Mister Potter would have informed you not to go looking for this."

Blaise jumped up and spun around in astonishment.

"Professor Dumbledore! I, uh, I apologize. Harry did tell me, but Draco seemed to depressed this morning."

The headmaster chuckled. "That is alright. However, I suggest that this visit is your last. Also, I request that you don't reveal any more of Mister Malfoy's life's secrets."

Blaise looked guilty and nodded his head.

"Mister Zabini, this is serious. There are things about Draco and his family that no one can know, yet you already do. Perhaps you should stay away from him. I do remember his father asking me to make certain that Draco and you don't go near each other. Good day."

Blaise left the room while Dumbledore stood in the room and stared into the mirror.

After some time, Albus Dumbledore said to himself, "I must remove this mirror before it boggles my mind even more."

* * *

Draco had never been more furious in his life. After storming through the corridors, messing up random Gryffindors' things, he went to sit down by the Black Lake to think. He fell asleep while leaning on a tree and woke up when it had gotten dark outside.

He walked back to the castle, passing Hagrid's hut on the way.

"That's odd," he said aloud. He saw three figures walk in through Hagrid's door; Draco had a feeling he knew who they were.

When he got there, he saw the gamekeeper's beard catch fire. Suddenly, he looked Draco right in the eye, and not moments later, Potter and Weasel turned around, giving Draco full view of the dragon.

He turned and ran; getting Blaise's new friends detentions was the best form of revenge he could come up with at the moment.

* * *

"Hagrid always wanted a dragon," Harry said, hurrying through the castle with his friends. "He told me so the first time I ever met him."

"It's crazy!" Ron supplied. "And worse, Malfoy knows."

"I don't understand," Hermione said. "Is that bad?"

The trio then caught sight of Professor McGonagall standing in front of them.

"It's bad," Ron replied to Hermione.

"Good evening," Professor McGonagall said.


	9. 9: Detention

A few minutes later, Draco furiously stomped out of the castle with the filthy Gryffindors and Filch on their way to the Forbidden Forest.

Draco thought that this was unbelievably unfair and protested.

Filch was saying, "A pity they let the old punishments go, eh? There was a time detention would find you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons. God, I'll miss the screaming."

"Lunatic," Draco muttered and Potter, who had been walking next to him, snickered a bit before realizing that he was laughing at Draco Malfoy's name-calling.

Oblivious to the situation, Filch continued, "You'll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight. He's got a little job to do...inside the Dark Forest."

When the group reached Hagrid, Filch said, "A sorry lot, this, Hagrid. Oh, good God, man, you're not still on about that bloody dragon, are ya?"

"Norbert's gone," said Hagrid. "Dumbledore sent him off to Romania to live in a colony."

"Well, that's good isn't it?" Granger said. "He'll be with his own kind."

"Yeah, but what if he don't like Romania? What if the other dragons are mean to 'im? He's only a baby, after all."

"Says you," Draco muttered and Potter gave him a look.

"Oh, for God's sake," Filch complained, "pull yourself together, man. You're going into the Forest, after all. Got to have your wits about ya."

"The Forest?" Weasley demanded. "I thought that was a joke. We can't go in there. Students aren't allowed. And there are...giant spiders!"

"Acromantula is the proper name for a species of giant spider, native to the rainforests of Southeast Asia, particularly Borneo where it inhabits dense jungle. Acromantulas are believed to-"

"NO ONE BLOODY CARES, GRANGER!" Draco yelled, frustrated, and Granger blushed in embarrassment, ducking her head.

"There's more than spiders in those trees, lad," Filch said, turning to Weasel. "You can be sure of that." After looking around one more time, he said, "Nighty-night," and left.

"Right," said Hagrid. "Let's go."

The four students walked with the gamekeeper through the forest. Hagrid stopped and ran his hand through some silvery liquid in the middle of the woods.

"Hagrid," Potter said, "what is that?"

"Unicorn blood," Draco said before he could stop himself. The others turned questioningly to him.

Since he couldn't tell them that his father had gone hunting for unicorns before, he said, "I think I've seen it before...near a unicorn."

Apparently, he was convincing enough for Hagrid to say, "And that's what we're here for. I found one dead, a few weeks ago. Now, this one's been hurt bad by somethin'. So, it's our job to go and find the poor beast. Ron, Hermione, you'll come with me. Harry, you'll go with Malfoy."

Draco groaned.

"Do we get Fang?" Potter asked.

"What on earth would you want fangs for?" Draco asked.

"This is Fang." Potter pointed to the dog whimpering next to Hagrid.

"Just so you know," Fang's owner said, "he's a bloody coward."

Walking through the forest looking for nothing bored Draco to death.

"You wait till my father hears about this!" Draco said. "This is servant's stuff."

"If I didn't know better, Draco," Potter said, putting as much hatred into the name as he could, "I'd say you were scared."

"I'm not scared, Potter. If anyone's scared, it's you. I'm just bored."

"And tired?"

"Not tired."

It was the truth; they hadn't gone far so neither of them were tired.

There was a sudden growling moan.

"Did you hear that?" Potter said.

"I've got ears, don't I?" Draco said irritably.

"Come on, Fang." Potter followed the dog deeper into the woods.

"And supposedly I'm the one who's scared," Draco muttered.

Soon, Fang had led the boys to an exceptionally small clearing and began growling.

"What is it, Fang?" Potter asked, fear evident in his voice. Then he and Draco looked up.

A hooded figure was crouched next to a motionless unicorn and it made slurping noises.

"Ahh!" Potter whispered as he clutched his forehead.

The slurps grew louder and then the figure lifted his head, growling.

Next to him, Draco heard Potter's breath quicken.

The hooded figure suddenly rose up and slowly started towards them.

"Stop!" Draco demanded once he realized who, or rather what, it was. "I'm a Malfoy! I know!"

The figure stopped and stood. He then made his way towards just Potter, and there was nothing Draco could do, so he helplessly watched Potter trip over a tree root as the monster approached him.

Out of nowhere, there was a gallop and a centaur came bounding out of the wood beyond. It scared off the creature that then ran and flew off.

"Harry Potter," the centaur said, ignoring Draco, "you must leave. You are known to many creatures here. The Forest is not safe at this time. Especially for you."

"But what was that thing you saved me from?" Potter asked.

"A monstrous creature. It is a terrible crime to slay a unicorn. Drinking the blood of a unicorn will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. For you have slain something so pure, that from the moment the blood touches your lips, you will have a half-life, a cursed life."

"But, who would choose such a life?"

_Goodness, _Draco thought, _Potter was daft!_

"Can you think of no one?" the centaur prompted.

_Come on, Potter!_ Draco mocked in his head. _Surely one who stalks Granger all day should know this!_

"You mean to say," Potter began, "that that thing that killed the unicorn, that was drinking its blood, that was Voldemort?"

"Well done, Potter!" Draco sarcastically said. "Took you long enough."

"Do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment, Mr. Potter?" the centaur asked, still ignoring Draco, and leaned closer to Potter, for this was obviously a secret.

"The Sorcerer's Stone," Potter responded.

"Ruff, ruff!"

Fang leaped towards Draco and Potter as Granger called out, "Harry!"

"Hello there, Firenze," Hagrid said to the centaur. "I see you've met our young Mr. Potter. You all right there, Harry? Malfoy?"

Potter nodded and Draco did nothing.

"Harry Potter," Firenze the centaur said, "this is where I leave you. You're safe now. Good luck."

* * *

The next day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione told Blaise about the detention.

"You mean, You-Know-Who is out there, right now, in the Forest?" Hermione asked.

"But he's weak," Harry pointed out. "He's living off of unicorns. Don't you see? We had it wrong! Snape doesn't want the Stone for himself. He wants the Stone for Voldemort. With the Elixir of Life, Voldemort will be strong again. He'll...he'll come back.

"But, if he comes back," Ron started, "you don't think he'll try to...kill you, do you?"

"I think if he'd had his chance he might have tried to kill me last night."

"And to think, I've been worrying about my Potions final."

"Hang on a minute," Blaise said. "We're forgetting one thing. Who's the one wizard Voldemort always feared? Dumbledore! As long as Dumbledore's around, Harry, you're safe. As long as Dumbledore's around, you can't be touched."

* * *

Blaise sat down behind Draco in Potions.

"Heard about the detention," Blaise said to him.

"It wouldn't have happened if you weren't such a traitor," Draco snapped.

Blaise said no more; he remembered that Dumbledore wished him not to speak with Draco.

He realized only at the end of a long day filled with moping that he'd lost his best friend, but he had other friends.

"I haven't hung with Theo and Adrian in a while now," he said to himself while staring at his dorm room wall.

In an instant, he jumped up from the bed and made his way down to the common room.

Fun was necessary every once in a while, but even more so before exams.


	10. 10: Conclusions Disproven

"I'd always heard Hogwarts' end-of-year exams were frightful," Hermione said as the trio walked to their next destination, "but I've found they're rather enjoyable."

"Speak for yourself," Ron said.

"Hey, guys!" Blaise said as he ran over to join the group. "Aren't you relieved that exams are finally over?"

Harry clutched his forehead again.

"Alright there, Harry?" Ron asked.

"My scar," he answered. "It keeps burning."

"It's happened before," Hermione said.

"Not like this."

"Perhaps you should see the nurse," Blaise suggested.

"I think it's a warning. It means danger's coming. Ahh."

The quartet stopped, and Harry noticed Hagrid playing his recorder.

"Oh, of course!" Harry exclaimed. He began walking quickly in the direction of Hagrid's hut, the other three following him.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have one? I mean, how many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pocket? Why didn't I see it before?"

They sprinted to Hagrid as fast as they could.

"Hagrid, who gave you the dragon egg? What did he look like?" Harry demanded.

"I dunno. I never saw his face. He kept his hood up."

"This stranger though, you and he must have talked."

"Well, he wanted to know what sort of creatures I looked after. I told him, I said, after Fluffy a dragon's gonna be no problem."

"Did he seem interested in Fluffy?"

"Well, o' course he was interested in Fluffy! How often do you come across a three-headed dog, even if you're in the trade? But I told 'im, I said, I said, 'The trick with any beast is to know how to calm 'im. Take Fluffy, for example, just play him a bit o' music, and he falls straight to sleep.'"

The members of the quartet looked at each other in shock.

"I shouldn't have told you that," Hagrid said.

The group turned around and immediately went to see McGonagall.

"We have to see Professor Dumbledore, immediately!" Harry said.

"I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore is not here," McGonagall replied. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left immediately for London."

"He's gone! Now! But, this is important! This is about the Sorcerer's Stone!"

"How do you kno-?"

"Someone's going to try to steal it!"

"I don't know how you four found out about the Stone, but I assure you it is perfectly well protected. Now, would you go back to your dormitories, quietly."

"That was no stranger Hagrid met in the village," Harry said once the group was in the corridor. "It was Snape, which means, he knows how to get past Fluffy."

"And with Dumbledore gone-" Hermione started.

"Good afternoon."

The first years turned around to face the Head of Slytherin House himself. "Now, what would three young Gryffindors, such as yourselves, be doing inside on a day like this?"

Harry looked around to find that Blaise was still there, but Snape hadn't said anything to him.

_What if he's just a spy?_ Harry thought as Hermione did her best to come up with an excuse for Snape.

"You ought to be careful," Snape continued. "People will think you're..." he trailed off as he turned to Harry and frowned as possibility creased his forehead.

"...up to something," he finished.

He turned around and stalked off.

"Now what do we do?" Hermione asked.

"We go down the trap door," Harry said, adding, "tonight."

* * *

Blaise was to be picked up by the trio in the potions classroom so he headed down to the common room.

"And where do you think you're going?" A voice Blaise drawled just as he was about to step out of the common room.

Blaise spun around. "Draco."

The blonde simply rose from the armchair he'd been resting on. "Blaise," he acknowledged. "Care to answer?"

Blaise knew that he shouldn't say anything, but this was his best friend once and he could be again.

"Har-I mean, Potter, Weasley, and Granger are going after Snape to get the Sorcerer's Stone. They're waiting for me in the potions classroom."

Draco frowned. "It's Quirrell, not Snape. I thought I'd told you about the conversation between Father Crabbe Senior."

"Right. Well, they think that Snape's going to try to steal the stone tonight so we're going to the trapdoor.

"Oh no, you're not. You're going to your room to owl Dumbledore."

"Make me."

"Enemy of my father or not, your father would not want to hear that you helped The Boy Who Lived to Be Annoying and his so-called 'friends' now, would he?" Draco smirked.

"No," Blaise looked at the ground.

"GO! I'll go after them. And do not tell _anyone!_"

"Fluffy sleeps with music!"

Having no clue what Blaise had meant, Draco raced out of the common room and went straight to the potions classroom only to find it empty.

"Great," Draco muttered. "Must've kept Blaise too long."

He dashed to the third-floor and saw that the door from when he'd followed the Try-Hard Trio was open. Upon entering, he found the three-headed dog's snout (or one of them) stuck in the trapdoor.

The other two heads saw Draco and the dog pulled out its third.

"Um, uh-" What had Blaise said? Something about music?

"Er, Alouette, gentille alouette. Alouette, je te plumerai." Draco's mother used to sing this-though the Black family wasn't French-until he was around seven. She would go about the house singing in her lovely voice. She never sang anymore, though, and Draco knew why. Singing was apparently a sign of happiness, and happiness was a weakness in the Malfoy household.

Draco could almost hear his father saying, "One must never be too happy with oneself. It will only lead to letting one's guard down, and it is evident what happens next."

Draco finished off the song, and by that time the dog was asleep and out of the way of the trapdoor.

Draco jumped in and landed in a messy tangle of plant roots. He noticed that Weasel was there, screaming his head off, but he hadn't seen Draco yet.

He immediately recognized this plant as the Devil's Snare and he knew he was supposed to relax, but he couldn't be seen. First, he had to save that rotten blood traitor who clearly didn't know how to relax.

"_Lumos Solem!"_ Draco yelled, but the light was too blinding for Weasley to see him. The roots of the plant retracted, and the two boys sank through.

The Weasel landed right in front of Potter and Granger while Draco landed a few feet behind them and was somehow hidden.

"Ron, are you okay?" Potter asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Lucky we didn't panic."

The other two glared at the Weasel and Draco almost snorted.

"I wonder how he got out, though," Granger said.

"It doesn't matter," Potter said. "He's safe, and we've got to go on."

"What's that?" Granger asked when the group heard a noise.

"I don't know. Sounds like wings."

The group entered the next room through a door and was met by a large amount of flying keys.

"Curious," Granger said. "I've never seen birds like these."

_Honestly,_ Draco thought, _for an insufferable know-it-all, you sure aren't acting like one._

"They're not birds," Potter said, "they're keys."

Kudos to him.

"And I'll bet one of them fits that door," he finished as he stepped up to the broom in front of him.

"What's this all about?" Granger asked.

"I don't know. Strange."

Weasel walked up to the door and said, _"Alohomora!_"

The door didn't budge.

"Well, it was worth a try."

Granger groaned. "What are we going to do? There must be a thousand keys up there!"

"We're looking for a big old fashioned one. Probably rusty, like the handle."

"There! I see it! The one with the broken wing!" Potter exclaimed. He looked back at the broom and hesitated.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Granger asked.

"It's too simple."

"Oh, go on Harry!" Weasel said. "If Snape can catch it on that old broomstick, you can! You're the youngest Seeker in a century!"

"I'm less than two months older than him!" Draco complained, revealing himself.

"Malfoy!" Weasley said. "What are you doing here?"

Draco smirked and replied, "Is that any way to thank your savior, Weasel?"

"Savior?" Granger said.

"Well, do you really think this moron is capable of relaxing while in the clutches of the Devil's Snare?"

"That was you? The one who said _'Lumos Solem_?'"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"He was being obnoxious."

"Was not!" Weasley yelled.

"You're wasting time. Get on the broom, Potter."

Surprisingly, Potter obeyed. However, the moment he touched the broom, the keys came flying at him, as in literally flying. He tried swatting them away, but they wouldn't leave.

"This complicates things a bit," Weasley remarked.

"No kidding, Weasel," Draco replied. He pointed his wand at Potter and yelled, "_Protego!_"

An invisible shield encased Potter, and the keys couldn't get through. Potter looked for the right key and took off after it, the keys following.

"Where did you learn that?" Granger asked Draco, her curiosity getting the best of her. "We haven't covered it this year."

"Having a father like mine can be an advantage sometimes," Draco said, shrugging. "I bet it's worn off by now, though."

Suddenly, Potter swooped down and chucked the key at them, yelling, "Catch the key!"

Granger caught it and ran to the door as Draco yelled back to Potter, "Well, do expect us to eat it instead?"

"Hurry up!" Weasel told his friend who was unsuccessfully jabbing the key in the door.

Frustrated, Draco went over.

"Move," he said to Granger, grabbing the key from her.

He shoved it in the keyhole and the lock twisted, permitting entrance into the next room. He held the door open for Potter's mates, and finally, Potter appeared. The minute he flew in, Draco slammed the door shut, hearing the winged keys sticking to the door like darts.

The group glanced around the new room.

"I don't like this. I don't like this at all."

"Shut up, Granger, you Gryffindor coward."

"Don't you dare!"

"Ron, he's not worth it!"

"Pothead's right, you know."

"How about _you _shut it, Malfoy?" Harry demanded.

Draco rolled his eyes and mirthlessly laughed at him. "Coward," he muttered.

"Where are we? A graveyard?"

"Oh, totally, Potter. Because graveyards have life-sized chess pieces."

Draco walked onto the giant chessboard and flames appeared from each side, giving the room some light. The others followed him when the light came on.

"There's the door!" Potter exclaimed.

The three Gryffindors went ahead only to be blocked by the pawns.

"It's not supposed to be easy, you know!" Draco called to them.

The three backed up from the pawns as Draco stood and watched the pawns replace their swords.

"Now that do we do?" Granger asked.

"Honestly, Granger, you don't have to keep asking that." Draco paused a moment before he realized something.

"Of course!" he said.

"What?" Weasley demanded.

"No one would think that it'd be simple to get across a life-sized wizards' chessboard. That's why it's here."

"I don't quite follow you."

"Of course not," Draco muttered. Then to the others, he said, "What I mean, is that no one would think to use a simple size-changing spell, or to even de-Transfigure it."

He pointed his wand at a pawn that was blocking the door and yelled, "_Reducio!_"

The pawn immediately grew smaller, back to its normal size, in fact, but the other pieces stepped forward.

"That sort of worked," Draco said.

"Where did you learn that?" Granger asked.

Draco thought back to his countless weeks of preparation since Christmas break. He'd been wandering around aimlessly, trying to find the perfect place to learn and practice without being seen. He'd even gone up to the seventh floor, and that's when luck struck. It was a room absolutely fit for Draco's needs. He had started to call it the Necessity Room, and whenever he had the chance, he would go up, learn, practice, and sometimes even nap.

"The Manor has an extravagantly large library," Draco told Granger as he did not wish to reveal anything to anyone about his secret training.

Granger's eyes gleamed with excitement, and Draco found himself rolling his eyes again. Irritating little know-it-all. Draco put on a smug look and said, "I know more spells. _Confringo!_"

The piece he'd aimed at exploded, and before anything else could happen, the four first years were shouting the two spells until the entire room was in flames from "Confringo".

A bishop had accidentally fallen to pieces on Weasley, and so they headed to him.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_ Granger said, lifting the heavy pieces from the weak boy's body.

"Ron, you okay?" Harry asked.

"Uh...mm...eh." That was all Weasley could croak out before going unconscious.

"I don't reckon that's a word, do you?" Draco said as the other two glared at him.

"This is your fault," Granger accused.

"Of course. Let me just apologize for saving your lives and time. Speaking of which, Quirrell's probably already down there."

"You mean Snape?" Potter insisted.

"No," Draco confirmed, "I mean Quirrell.

Potter shrugged and said, "Come on, Hermione, we have to go on!"

"Excuse me?" Draco said. "You expect me to stay here with Weasley? In this burning room?"

"Fine! We'll bring him along!" Granger said, frustrated.

So they took him with them to the next room. There were some flasks filled with assorted liquids on a table in the room.

Draco and Potter put the ginger they'd been carrying on the ground.

Draco wiped his hands on Potter's robes.

"What're you doing?" Potter asked indignantly.

"Liberating myself of the germs obtained by touching a blood traitor's hand-me-down robe."

"HE IS _NOT_ A BLO-"

"Boys! I found something."

Draco and Potter turned around to find Granger waving around a piece of parchment.

"What is it, Hermione?" Potter asked, heading forward.

"_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._"

"A bit long, don't you think?" Draco commented.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic; they'd be stuck in here forever."

"Getting a little rude here, aren't we?" Draco drawled.

"But we'll get stuck in here, too," Potter said, ignoring Draco, who found that he didn't quite enjoy being ignored.

"Potter, quit being so big headed. Obviously, you are not the one with brains here, so no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn't be able to come up with the correct answer."

Granger blushed and said, "He's right only when he says I can come up with the answer. Just let me read this."

"I wasn't talking about you," Draco snapped at her. "Perhaps if you had a brain as well, you'd be able to figure that out."

"Excuse me! I've beaten you in every class!"

"You know this because which professor told you?"

Granger looked down at her feet and muttered, "No one did."

Raising her voice a bit, she continued, "I just assumed because you don't answer questions..."

"Oh yeah. That's right. Forgive me for not being an insufferable know-it-all."

Granger huffed. "If you're so bright, _you _figure it out!"

"Precisely what I've been asking to do."

Before Granger realized what Draco had just done, he snatched the parchment from her. He looked at the parchment, then up at the potions. He did this several times before coming to a conclusion.

"The smallest one will help you go forward, and the purple one on the end will send you back. Who's taking what?"

"Well, how can you be so sure, Malfoy?" Granger asked.

"The second from the left and right taste identical. Two of the bottles are only nettle wine, so it's obviously those ones. The potions on the left side of either are poisoned, so that leaves the third and fourth from the left, and the potions at the right end. The last one will not help you move forward, yet it can't poison you. That's the one that will take you through the purple fire and back into the chess room. That leaves the dwarf and giant. One has to be poisoned, but it obviously won't kill you since it says that in the riddle. The big bottle's obviously got enough potion in it for more than one person, and I highly doubt it's that one. So the smallest one is for getting through the black flames."

Granger and Potter gaped at Draco who looked back at them with a smug expression.

"Hermione-" Potter started.

"Harry, he's right. It makes sense."

"But how can he be confident that it's the smallest, and not the biggest, that will get the drinker through the black fire?"

"Malfoy?" Granger looked at him.

"Fine, I'll just smell the poison. If one of you ends up dying because you didn't believe me, it's your own fault."

The other two speechlessly watched the Slytherin uncork and smell the bottles.

"Confirmation," Draco said. "This is nettle wine...this one, too. So those two are poisons. Not smelling those."

"Why not?" Potter asked.

"What if it's the kind of potion that can kill you if you smell it?" Draco said.

"They have those?"

"Honestly, Potter, if you were any slower, you'd be going backwards."

He went to the smallest potions and hesitantly brought it to his nose. He sniffed.

Almost immediately, he covered the bottle, set it down, and fell to the ground.

Potter and Granger rushed to him.

"Idiot!" Granger said. "How on Merlin's beard are we going to explain this?"

"So you're not concerned about my well-being at all?"

Granger jumped back at Draco's words with a gasp.

"Malfoy! You're alive!"

"No kidding, Granger. For a moment, I thought I was a ghost through whom you couldn't pass. I must admit I am slightly hurt that you care more about your reputation as a goody-two-shoes than my health."

"I-I-I-" Granger stuttered before Draco cut her off.

"Only joking. No one can hurt me, and I'm not only poisoned; just a really good actor."

Draco picked up the bottle and declared, "This is safe. Who's going forward?"

"I will," Potter replied, taking the bottle.

"Harry-" Granger tried to object only to find herself being interrupted again...by the same person.

"Granger, you can take this back." Draco handed her the bottle. "There's enough in there for you and Weasley."

"But what about you?" Granger asked.

"Don't tell me you're concerned. I'll be well off."

"I'm not concerned; I just don't trust you."

"Then stay until I've done my duty. Potter, move on."

"You'll be okay, Harry," Granger said, turning to her best friend. "You're a great wizard. You really are."

Draco snorted as Potter replied, "Not as good as you."

"Me? Books and cleverness. There are more important things. Friendship and bravery. And, Harry, just be careful."

Potter nodded, and drank the potion. He said to Draco, "If you mess up, you're dead."

Draco smirked. "I'm about as dead as You-Know-Who himself. Wait, bad analogy."

Potter almost smiled before remembering who he was talking to, and stepped through the fire.

"What are you going to do right now?" Granger asked as Draco rummaged for things in his pockets.

"Recreate Potter's potion."

"What? You can't do that! You're only a first year. Besides, where would you get the ingredients?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Even though I know precisely which ingredients are used, I didn't bring my potions kit with me. I did bring a large enough flask, however. I always have one with me. Aha!"

Draco took out a flask slightly larger than Potter's. To Granger's surprise, it looked almost identical to Potter's potion.

"Shocked? Or should I say, stunned?" he smirked.

"H-how did you do that?" Granger asked.

"Magic."

Granger rolled her eyes and said, "If that's the real thing, then you must have sent Harry on without the real potion."

"I'm not stupid, Granger. I simply duplicated it."

"We haven't learned that yet! That's N.E.W.T level magic!"

"I'm flattered, but I should get going before Potter screws something up."

"But how did you know the spell? And why didn't I see it?"

"I learned it from one of my Manor library books, and you didn't see me do the spell because you were too caught up in the moment."

"Was not!...Why did you read so much?"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

Draco swallowed the potion in one gulp and stepped through the fire.

He ran right through the next room for the troll had been dealt with (presumably by Quirrell as Potter had no such ability to do such a thing). He needed to sprint if he wanted to catch up with Potter.

Finally, Draco found him walking as slowly and as cautiously as possible. Up ahead, he could see the top of a turban.

This was it. Draco's chance to win trust and be a hero - even if the latter would be anonymous and unnoticed by anyone.

"Professor Quirrell!" he called, striding ahead of Potter. "I have lured Harry Potter here."

The professor turned to look at Draco and spoke, "However unnecessary your help is, as I had suspected Potter to come on his own, it will be greatly appreciated."

He then turned to Potter.

Potter said the one thing he could get out, "You?"

He took a few steps forward, continuing, "N-no, it can't be! Snape - he wa- he was the one-"

"Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he? Why next to him, who would suspect 'p- p- poor st- st- stuttering Professor Quirrell?'" Quirrell interrupted Potter, acting out the stuttering part he had been playing all year long.

"But- but that day, during the Quidditch match, Snape tried to kill me." Potter took a few more steps down the stairs.

"No, dear boy, I tried to kill you! And trust me, if I hadn't been cursed, I would have succeeded, even with Snape muttering his little countercurse."

Draco wondered how Quirrell didn't remember that it was Draco who had cursed him, but then he realized that Snape must have wiped that part from his memory.

"Snape was trying to save me?" Potter asked incredulously.

"Idiot Potter, of course he was!" Draco said, pretending to be on Quirrell's side. "Quirrell's the one who let the troll in!"

"Very good, Draco, yes," Quirrell confirmed. "Snape, unfortunately, wasn't fooled. When everyone else was running about the dungeon, Snape went to the third floor to head me off. He, of course, never trusted me again."

Quirrell turned back to the mirror and Draco noticed Potter reach for his forehead in pain. Draco looked at the turban...

"He rarely left me alone," Quirrell said, still going on about Snape. "But, he doesn't understand. I'm never alone. Never."

Suddenly, Draco understood.

"Now, what does this mirror do?" Quirrell asked aloud. "I see what I desire. I see myself holding the Stone. But, how do I get it?"

"Use the boy!"


	11. 11: A Slytherin at Heart

"Use the boy!" The cold voice hissed again.

Both Draco and Potter looked around - the first to act as if he was ignorant, the latter to figure out the source of the sound.

Quirrell turned around and yelled, "Come here, Potter! Now!"

Potter carefully walked over to his former professor. Draco moved so that he was next to the mirror and face Potter and Quirrell.

"Tell me," Quirrell whispered, "what do you see?"

Draco watched Potter squint at the mirror for a few seconds. Then Potter's eyes grew larger. His eyes moved down and to the left from Draco's perspective. He felt something in his pocket and his head snapped to the mirror. This gesture confused Draco.

"What is it?" Quirrell asked. "What do you see?"

Draco could tell Potter was struggling.

At last, The Boy Who Lived said, "I-I'm shaking hands with Dumbledore. I-I've won the House Cup."

"Nice one, Potter," Draco said, "I bought that."

"He lies!" the cold voice said about Potter.

"Tell the truth!" Quirrell said to Potter. "What do you see?"

Potter cringed and he looked scared. He turned to Quirrell.

"Let me speak to him," the voice said.

Quirrell frowned and said, "Master, you are not strong enough."

"I have strength enough for thisss."

Quirrell immediately began to undo his turban and Potter backed up a bit.

Then Draco's guess was confirmed: Voldemort was the back of Quirrell's head.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed, "we meet again."

"Voldemort," Potter said in realization.

"Yes. You see what I have become? See what I must do to survive? Live off another. A mere parasite! Unicorn blood can sustain me, but it cannot give me a body of my own. But there is something that can. Something, that conveniently enough, lies in your pocket."

Potter turned and ran.

"Stop him!" Voldemort commanded. Quirrell snapped his fingers. Flames erupted around the room, making escaping impossible.

Potter looked for a way out, but was unsuccessful. He faced Quirrell and Draco again.

Draco. He was just standing there, doing nothing. Not that there was anything he _could_ do, for that matter. His job was simply to watch the events unfold.

As Potter kept looking around, Voldemort continued, "Don't be a fool! Why suffer a horrific death when you can join me... and live?"

"Never!" Potter said defiantly.

_Foolish Gryffindor,_ Draco thought. If he were in Potter's situation, he would be buying time instead of figuring out ways to get killed.

Voldemort laughed. "Bravery. Your parents had it, too. Tell me, Harry, would you like to see your mother and father again? Together we can bring them back. All I ask is for something in return."

Potter reached for something in his pocket and pulled out a large red stone.

"That's it, Harry. There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Together we'll do extraordinary things. Just give me the Stone!"

Rage formed on Potter's face and he yelled, "You liar!"

"Kill him!" Voldemort commanded Quirrell.

The servant flew over and grabbed Potter's neck, causing the latter to drop the stone a few inches from where his hand could reach.

Draco saw Potter struggling, but he couldn't do anything as Voldemort was facing him. So he kept a relaxed look on his face as he watched Potter gasp for air.

Suddenly, Potter tried to shove Quirrell's hand away from his throat. Quirrell began to shriek in pain.

"Ahh! What is this magic?" He cried as his hand started to disintegrate.

"Fool!" Voldemort shouted. "Get the stone!"

Potter glanced at the stone, then at Quirrell, then at Draco.

Draco pointedly looked at his hands, then at Quirrell.

Almost instantly, Potter ran to the man, putting his hands on his face.

Quirrell stepped away from him after a few seconds, screaming. His face cracked, just as his hand had, and he began to disintegrate as he reached for Potter.

Quirrell then disintegrated completely and his cloak fell onto the floor.

Potter stared at his hands, then retrieved the stone. Draco saw satisfaction on his face.

"Ahem," Draco cleared his throat.

"Er-" He cut himself off when he saw the formation of dust particles to his left.

Dust-particle-Voldemort went right through Potter, eliciting a scream from the both of them. Potter fell to the ground as the dusty figure of the Dark Lord circled him and disappeared into the flames.

Draco rushed to his arch enemy. Potter seemed to be breathing, but that was all Draco could tell.

In rage, Draco stood and kicked at Quirrell's robes. How could his cowardice parents serve this foul creature as if they were his slaves?

He glance back at Potter who had countless cuts all over him. Draco thought that was odd since he himself did not have any.

"Where's Dumbledore when you need him?" Draco muttered to himself.

As if on cue, the Headmaster of Hogwarts came out of nowhere.

"There you are!" Draco exclaimed. "Thought of coming back any sooner?"

"Draco, I deeply apologize," the old wizard started, "and I wish I had been back sooner. However, now is not the time. I need to get you and Mister Potter out of here."

Draco just glared at him, but then he nodded his consent...not that Dumbledore needed it.

He watched curiously as the old man, without the use of a wand, conjured a stretcher and levitated the Boy Who Lived To Be A Burden onto it. Draco silently followed the headmaster as he led them out of the dungeons, extinguishing the fire on the way.

They entered the potions room through the fire.

"But sir-" Draco started.

"I disabled all of the protections on my way here. This is why Mister Weasley and Miss Granger are currently not present."

"Well done, I suppose," Draco said. "But then again, you don't really need my praise, do you?"

"One can never tire of too much praise as long as it doesn't imprison all other reasons for human action."

To this, Draco said nothing, although he _did_ understand that the headmaster meant that praise wasn't bad as long as it didn't go to your head. It was fine until you did everything for praise and only praise.

Draco couldn't help but wonder if that was his parents' reason for becoming Death Eaters. Was Lucius Malfoy Voldemort's right-hand man because of praise?

Once they had reached the hospital wing, Dumbledore told Madam Pomfrey not to worry how anything happened, but just to help him wordlessly.

Dumbledore and Draco walked out of the room the former told Draco, "I would now like to speak with you personally in my office."

"Professor, I swear I didn't actually lure him there. It was just an excuse."

"Mister Malfoy, I have not yet said anything to you."

"Right."

The rest of the trip was so silent that one could hear a feather hit the ground.

Once in the office, Draco noticed Potter's best friends and Draco's former best friend.

"What," he grumbled, "are _they_ doing here?"

"We could ask you the same question," Weasley "helpfully" provided.

"First of all," Dumbledore began, "I would like to ask Mister Zabini what made him owl me so late at night."

"Draco told me to contact you when he followed the others to the trapdoor. He went instead of me."

"So that's why you weren't there," Weasley said. "We'd thought you'd bailed out on us."

"Slytherins keep their word," Draco said, adding, "most of the time."

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "The other three can now tell me the events that followed.

So they did, and Blaise listened intently, a bit sad from having missed out, but mostly glad that he didn't have to deal with what the others dealt with.

"And then you came," Draco said to Dumbledore, finishing the story. He took a huge breath; if there was a stupid, irritating idea, it was storytelling. He hated it, especially when it was a true story that you were telling for the hundredth time.

"You want us to believe that you saved Harry?" Weasley asked.

"Yes, I expect you will because when Potter wakes up, he can tell you the same thing. Unless, like in the troll incident," he glared at Granger, "he thinks that only he should receive credit."

Removing his glare and turning to his headmaster, he said, "This had better not get out. I was never there. I had nothing to do with this, and I most definitely did not _save or lure_ Potter. It was just Potter and his two lackeys."

"Excuse me?" Granger said, daring him to say more.

"It's true," Draco said. "It's always going to be 'Potter did this' or 'Potter did that'. Never will it be 'Potter, Weasley, and Granger take down Voldemort'. It will always be Potter."

Granger seemed to take that in for a moment before saying, "How would you know? Harry's nothing like _you_."

"And that is exactly why he would take all the credit. Headmaster, I demand that no one knows the full story. Do whatever you have to do to eliminate me from the story. The rest of you had better keep your mouths shut _regardless of what anyone says_."

"I think that can be arranged," Dumbledore said. "You three," he looked at Blaise, Weasley, and Granger, "are free to go visit your friend in the hospital wing."

The three of them stood and left.

"Now Draco," the headmaster said, turning to the first year who flinched at the old man's use of his first name. "Is there something you would like to say?"

Draco was about to shake his head 'no' when he realized that he did have something.

"Sir, I want to know if I was sorted properly."

"Well," the old man said, his eyes twinkling, "there's only one way to find out." He picked up the Sorting Hat from a shelf nearby and placed it on the boy's head.

"Draco Malfoy again," the hat said. "Having doubts, are you? I assure you I did not only choose Slytherin because you asked me to. You may be brave enough for a Gryffindor, but you are too clever to foolishly risk your life. You have great ambitions and, unlike the Ravenclaws, you will always stick by your friends. Remember what your prefect told you on your first day at Hogwarts. You are a Slytherin at heart. How did I know what your prefect told you? Not only is it the prefects' job to tell their respective houses who they are, but I can also read your thoughts."

Dumbledore took the hat off of Draco. "Be proud of who you are, Draco," the headmaster said. "There will be times when that is all you can be proud of."

Draco took that as his cue to leave.


	12. 12: The Command

Draco paced in front of the hospital wing as he waited for Dumbledore to come get him. The headmaster was inside, speaking with Harry Potter about the events in the dungeon. Finally, Madam Pomfrey came out to retrieve Draco.

He walked in slowly and found Dumbledore complaining about earwax flavored beans.

Potter saw Draco walk in and glared at him.

"Quit saving my life," he said.

"Is that a command?" Draco asked.

"Yes."

"And where would you be had I not saved your life?"

Draco thought he heard something along the lines of "dead".

Potter glared at him and asked, "Why did you tell Quirrell that you lured me there?"

"Because I did, didn't I? Technically speaking. I highly doubt your brilliant Gryffindor friends would have been able to get you to Quirrell, anyway."

"I was trying to stop him."

"No, you were trying to stop Snape since you were - and still are - absolutely clueless and unobservant. This, Potter, is not called _bravery_. It's called recklessness. One day, trying to save someone is going to get them killed. For example, say The Dark Lord was trying to lure you to him and pretended to threaten your godfather or something. You'd either end up killing yourself, him, or the both of you."

"It's not called recklessness!" Potter cried indignantly.

"Maybe you should get Granger to study with you sometime; she might be able to help your vocabulary."

"Just because you saved my life-"

"-twice-" Draco added.

"-doesn't mean that I'm going to be buddy-buddy with you. This is probably just a trick, anyway."

"Right. I'll be willing to figure out what this 'trick' of mine is."

"I believe that's enough," Dumbledore said.

"Oh, Potter," Draco said, "if you mention any of this to anyone - and I mean _anyone -_ I will personally make sure you don't remember how to breathe. Actually, I think I'll learn a memory charm over the summer just in case."

"Sir," Potter complained to Dumbledore, "he's threatening me!"

"Harry, the day Draco Malfoy tries to kill you of his own will, and from the bottom of his heart, I might add, is the day Rubeus Hagrid becomes a Death Eater."

"Professor Dumbledore," Draco started, "you don't want to go around making promises like that."

"You're quite right, Draco. Let us leave Mister Potter to rest."

Draco followed Dumbledore out of the hospital wing, both wizards knowing fully well that Draco would never intend to harm anyone who was against the Dark Lord.

* * *

Draco sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall the day before the students' departure. He still wasn't speaking to Blaise which meant that Theo and Adrian wouldn't come near Draco either. So Draco had to resort to Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't understand how members of the Dark Lord's innermost circle could have children dumber than domestic turkeys. Honestly, some turkeys had been known to drown in a heavy rain shower because they didn't realize that it would be dry and safe inside their hutches!

How did Draco know that? Apparently, this had happened to his great-Grandfather's turkeys on Thanksgiving once. Speaking of turkeys...

Crabbe and Goyle were so busy stuffing their mouths with the bird that Draco could _hear it!_ For a couple of purebloods, they sure didn't act like it. Then again, Weasley didn't either.

It was hard to believe that Granger's parents had come from pureblooded families considering the fact that they were both squibs.

His father's words came back to him: _"She's as good a Mudblood as any of them."_

Was that true? Of course it wasn't. So why did his genius father believe in this rubbish?

Before Draco could wonder more about his father's decisions, McGonagall tapped her spoon on her glass to get everyone's attention.

Dumbledore rose from his seat. "Another year gone. And now, as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding. And the points stand as thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor with three hundred and twelve points. Third place, Hufflepuff with three hundred and fifty-two points. In second place, Ravenclaw with four hundred and twenty-six points. And in first place, with four hundred and seventy-two points, Slytherin House."

Draco's house burst into applause and cheers while the other houses clapped politely.

Dumbledore continued, "Yes, yes. Well done, Slytherin. Well done, Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into account. And, I have a few last-minute points to award."

Draco groaned; he knew exactly what this would be about.

"To Miss Hermione Granger, for the cool use of intellect when others were in grave peril, fifty points."

The Gryffindors cheered and Draco rolled his eyes, even though he knew his anonymity was important.

"Second, to Mister Ronald Weasley for faith and encouragement to his friends, fifty points."

This was frustrating. Dumbledore was practically giving out points for free.

"Third, to Mister Harry Potter, for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points."

"Outstanding courage," Draco mocked. Courage, when Draco had done all the work. He looked at the hourglasses; his house was tied was Gryffindor.

"Fourth, it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies. But, a great deal more to stand up to your friends. I award ten points to Neville Longbottom."

"When did this happen?" Draco muttered to himself.

"We are not done yet, however," Dumbledore said. "It is hard to stick with your friends, but even harder when your two groups of friends are enemies. I award ten points to Mister Blaise Zabini."

The Slytherins cheered since they were once more tied with their rival house.

"And finally," Dumbledore said, "there is one young man here who has risked his family, his friends, and might I add, even his pride to save our three Gryffindor heroes. He wishes to remain anonymous, and I shall respect that wish. Fifty points to Slytherin! I believe these points put Gryffindor in second while Slytherin remains in first. Slytherin wins!"

Draco joined the other Slytherins in clapping and patting each other on the backs even though he knew which young man Dumbledore was talking about. One quick glance at Dumbledore and a wink from the older man confirmed Draco's suspicions that the headmaster of Hogwarts hadn't forgotten about him. Draco smirked back and congratulated his friends. He caught the eye of his former best friend.

Blaise saw Draco and caught his eye. He genuinely smiled and nodded because he knew that Dumbledore had awarded those last fifty points to Draco. Draco smirked and nodded back before grabbing Crabbe and Goyle's heads and pulling them out of their plates.

Blaise rolled his eyes. He wondered how hard it was to be "friends" with those two idiots.

* * *

Draco shoved his trunk into the train compartment and set his caged owl next to it. A whole summer with his parents. Draco had endured years with his parents, but after one year at Hogwarts and the sudden change in his parents' cruelty growth rate, he didn't want to leave.

He remembered the look on Granger's face when he'd told her that the potion in the bottle Potter had drunk from had refilled automatically.

"So you lied about being able to do N.E.W.T level magic!" she had cried.

"No, Granger, I can do some N.E.W.T stuff. I just lied about the potion. Then again, you should be an expert on lying, especially after the troll incident."

Draco chuckled as he remembered Gryffindor's golden girl's cheeks flushed in embarrassment at his reply.

Blaise passed him on the train. "We can sit together until a few minutes before we arrive at Kings Cross Station."

Draco agreed and told him he'd be there after Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep. A few minutes later, Draco stepped into the compartment with his "former" friends.

"So Blaise tells me you're the savior," Theo said to Draco the moment he entered.

Draco's eyes became cold and threatening as he said, "Don't you dare repeat this to anyone else."

Adrian smirked at him. "Don't worry, Draco, we can't risk losing you the way you risked losing us."

"I didn't! You know how my father would react if I told them I refused to be friends with Dumb and Dumber and would rather hang out with you three."

"Which one's Dumb and which one's Dumber?" Adrian asked.

"Goyle and Crabbe, respectively."

After a moment's silence, Blaise said, "Feels strange to be going home, doesn't it?"

"I'm not going home," Draco said. "Not really."

And he wasn't.


End file.
